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unicorncornflakes · 1 year ago

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Summer Isles - Modern!Aemond x Reader | Modern!Aegonx Reader | Chapter 3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (As soon as posible)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After two years in the Summer Isles, Aemond returns from his international stay during his doctorate ready to be with the girl he left Westeros for.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: Not at this moment, maybe later :P This is the best I can write these days, sorry :( I have realised during my ausence that this is a Aegon x Reader too, so...

General Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @hiddencurator @tempt-ress @watercolorskyy @tsujifreya @qyburnsghost @thetrueblackheart

Tag-List for this series (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @snh96 @zenka69 @darkenchantress

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5.5K

You grabbed your bag and stood up from the table where you were sitting. You lowered the short, violet dress you were wearing that night. It had too little fabric for your taste, but Alys had insisted that you had bought it toward two years for some special reason and she insisted that you wear it for her birthday celebration. You remembered Aemond murmuring that you were very pretty and your cheeks had flushed slightly.

At that moment you felt stupid watching him dance with Alys. She pressed her body against him on the dance floor of that exclusive club, where Aemond had gotten a VIP section for his girlfriend's birthday. For his beloved Alys and all her friends. That included you. However, after watching Alys rub her butt against Aemond's crotch for the twenty-third time that night you felt out of place. It wasn't that you had counted the times she had made that move, or that you had a game in which you used to take a drink every time she did it... how many hangovers hadn't been because of that move... No, really No. You wore very well than your best friend came out with the boy you liked since high school. You were doing terribly well. You were only going home because you couldn't stand those high heels or that short dress anymore. The atmosphere of that club. Crowded with people and with an oppressive temperature…

You said goodbye to all your friends on the pretext that your head hurt and Shiera and her bicolor eyes knew that you were lying, but she didn't give it any more importance. She was the only friend who had let you know that Alys' move had been too low when she started dating Aemond when it was obvious that you liked him. But did you like Aemond? Of course not. Of course not. You had always been friends and there was a sacred rule about not going out with friends. Things broke down and that's why you had never done anything... Right? Another lie that you always told yourself to calm your sad mood.

You left the club and found yourself on the street in the rain and Sound of the cars that were trying to drive under that unexpected temporary. The now muffled music coming out of that exclusive venue. That repetitive and strident sound. You grabbed your arms and thought about your options to get home. All your skin was crawling from the cold and humidity of the water and although you didn't realize it, the humidity there was frizzy that hairstyle that had cost you so much to do that night. The truth was that you knew that a small part of you had only acted like this to impress Aemond, although you would rather die than admit it. You had always found it pathetic that two women competed for the same man. You kept thinking about how to get back home.

You could order a taxi and have it drop you off at the King's Landing bus station. There was a bus that left there at one in the morning. It would take you about 45 minutes to arrive and you could take off that terrible dress and those uncomfortable shoes. You could also call your brother and stay the night at his apartment, but you knew he would end up arguing with his girlfriend like always. So you ruled it out. You could... call your father and ask him to come pick you up. But that would only mean having to explain why you had returned so soon from your supposed best friend's party.

“Hey, how come you're not inside? It's a terrible storm to be outside” you heard Alys' voice behind you and your brain ended up freezing completely. You weren't in the mood to pretend that everything was okay between you, because it hadn't been for three years. Everything was a supposed cordiality and sisterhood that in many cases ended up stressing you out, all because it wouldn't be obvious that you were just jealous. Terribly jealous.

"I'm going home. My head hurts a little” you responded with the best of your fake smiles and you only saw that she was still perfect even despite the humidity of the environment. She was always bloody perfect, with her makeup well applied, her hair perfectly combed, and her dress without a single wrinkle, despite having spent the whole night rubbing against Aemond. Sometimes you thought she even did it on purpose.

“Oh, come on, just wait a couple of hours and Aemond and I will take you home in his car,” she replied, trying to take your hand and go back to the party, but you just let go of her in a bad way, and you realized that such a violent and tiring gesture had managed to destroy the fragile facade of feigned happiness for her that you had managed to build over those hard three years. You weren't going to go home again while Aemond drove and Alys touched up in the passenger seat.

“I don't want to be a bother. Today is your birthday and I imagine you will go do your things after this” you sighed, your cheeks slightly blushing. You could still hear Alys' criticism of the fact that you still hadn't slept with anyone. Alys always patronized you and laughed amusingly as you both continued under the entrance to the club. You are much closer to the rain than she was.

“You mean I'm going to go fuck him after my birthday party?” She smiled at you, amused and arrogant, crossing his arms, knowing that that way of speaking always made you feel uncomfortable. Alys had never been known for being subtle or discreet. It was what you thought men liked about her. “Of course I will, but we can keep bringing you closer to home” she smiled again. She laughed in your face and found the sad face you had made when she had confirmed that she would sleep with Aemond that night even more amusing. You were so innocent that she always thought you had to imagine them playing house when you weren't with them.

“My head really hurts,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks blush. In that moment, you wished you were Alys and received all the attention Aemond gave her day after day. “And I just want to go home…”

“(Y/N), I'm not stupid, okay? I know you like Aemond, but, you have played your cards better” she laughed and you went pale. You saw her smirk as she hit the nail on the head. You had always considered yourself a good actress, but you weren't. You never had been. “This party is full of guys and you just need to get laid. My boyfriend would end up being a mere memory in your head if you did that” she could see how it had been a real stab that she referred to Aemond as her boyfriend and she just laughed, again. “Please, you and Aemond have always been in very different leagues, and you are still a child unable to get over your high school crush,” she laughed and you couldn't take it anymore. It almost seemed like Alys had always found pleasure in humiliating you. “Don't be pathetic. Go back to the party and go to the bathroom with the first one who invites you to a drink” She offered her hand for you to come back in and something inside your head seemed to click at that moment.

“Did you know I liked Aemond in high school?” you asked her and her smile faltered for the first time that night.

“Hey…” Alys started to shake her head. She had always known it. And your heart broke even more. What the hell had Alys been playing since then? “(Y/N), I…”

“It's a yes or a no. It's not that complicated,” you replied, feeling your whole body trembling as if you couldn't stand on your legs. And she bit her lips. She didn't want to answer you. She didn't want to do it because she had always known and never cared. She had only had one very clear goal with Aemond. "Brilliant. You knew it and you still screwed it.”

“You couldn't decide. It was stupid to see you” she blurted that out in your face as if it were a compelling enough reason and you didn't even stay to listen to the rest of the explanation. You just ran out of there, in the rain, your bag swinging on your bare shoulder and hugging yourself. “(Y/N), come back” she yelled at you. But, you were too sad to look back again and you just ran through the rain, almost not knowing where to go.

Alys saw your figure disappear and only turned to return to the club. At the door she met Aemond, who had come out to look for you. He asked her if everything was okay and she just kissed him and took him to the bathroom. That was the perfect way their relationship worked. She was sure he hadn't heard any of your conversation.

You kept walking until you ended up cold and soaked in a part of the city you didn't know. But, you felt too betrayed to be able to feel afraid. You weren't in a good neighborhood and fate was just capricious when you heard something moving in an alley.

At that moment, you realized where you were and you felt afraid. You saw the gazes of some of the passersby fix on you and one even whistled at you as you passed by him. “What is a girl as pretty and alone as you doing in a place like this?” He whispered to you as he grabbed your arm. That man only smelled of alcohol and you felt stupid for having rejected Alys' offer. How did you end up there?

A shadow appeared between the garbage cans in that alley and you never felt so happy to have seen Aegon in your life. He was in a sorry state, with an eyebrow and a split lower lip. He staggered and sighed as he tried to focus his eyes on the spectacle in front of his eyes. You thought he almost looked like he had just been beaten up and he just tried to smile at the sight of you.

That man who had grabbed you stood still, just like you. To that stranger, even in a state as pitiful as that, Aegon Targaryen was someone to be reckoned with. It was a name that could only bring trouble, and, yes, it was perfectly the kind of neighborhood where you'd imagine Aegon on a Saturday night.

“Hey, (Y/N), is this asshole bothering you?” he responded, clutching his ribs, sighing heavily and ending with a smile just as he finished exhaling. That guy looked you up and down, weighing whether the risk of facing Aegon was worth it, even if he was in that state so unbecoming of his family's name, as Aemond always said.

The same guy who had assaulted you let you go and left without saying anything else. Aegon leaned against the brick wall at the corner of the alley and smiled at you again. He made a pitiful sound again and you approached as if you had become active again, after the terror that had taken hold of you. "Are you OK?" you asked him, eyes full of concern and Aegon thought about how he liked your eyes when they looked at him like that. You were a good enough person to care about him. He thought you were even too good a person to be his brother's best friend. You always gave everything you had.

“I've had better nights. Also worse” he answered you while he continued clutching his ribs and took out the keys to his car that was parked at the door of that seedy dive. You didn't even want to ask him what activities were carried out there. You approached with concern and he tried to smile again. Aegon had always treated you cordially, even sympathetically, despite the relationship you had with Aemond. “Well, can I get you somewhere?” Because it's hard for me to leave you in a neighborhood like this alone,” he said with difficulty, banging the keys on the hood of the last Ferrari his parents had bought him. You knew how bad that had felt for Aemond. However, they paid for his very expensive and exclusive doctorate while his brother seemed to indulge that sinful life that only brought him problems.

“I think you should go to the hospital and have that bruise looked at,” you told him as you opened the passenger door. You knew Aemond was going to kill him when he found out whatever had happened to him, and you felt obligated to escort him, as if you had taken the same responsibility on your own of your best friend. You got into the car and Aegon smiled again at the same time he too opened his door.

“I'll go to the hospital right after I drop you off at your house or wherever you want,” he said, starting the car, without putting on his seat belt. At that moment he realized that you were soaked and that you had cried. He had made enough women cry to know the expression that was painted on your face. “Uhm, are you okay? Because you look terrible” he asked you with genuine concern and the greatest tact he had. Aegon had never been known for having good tact.

“Are you really asking me how I am doing when you have a possible broken rib?” you asked him, framing your eyebrows in a worried gesture and he just laughed.

"Believe me. I've had my ribs broken and they hurt more,” he answered honestly and you looked at your phone at that moment. Aemond had sent you a message. Alys none. And you didn't want to see what your best friend had written to you. You didn't think you were capable. You would end up crying. “I thought today was Alys's birthday,” Aegon murmured as he tapped the steering wheel as he began to drive through the city. You didn't even want to wonder if he was up to it, but you just sighed.

“Yes, it is,” you said, putting the phone back in your bag and Aegon just bit his inner cheek. Okay, it was better not to ask you about that topic. He knew enough about women to know that: one, that you had cried, and two, that you must have argued with Alys. The reasons for the discussion could be quite broad. To Aegon, Alys had always seemed as much of a cretin as his cretin of a brother. But Aemond was his little brother and he had no choice but to put up with him. He couldn't stand Alys and it showed. But, he was always the life of the party. He considered his brother's girlfriend so stupid that he thought that not even she must know. You had a sad face, but that was the face you had since Alys and Aemond had started dating. His brother had made a terrible mistake by not choosing you. A mistake Aegon was not willing to make. Maybe, he could sleep with you and see if things worked out…no, no. You were too good a girl for that.

“So… Shall I take you back to the party?” He asked and called himself stupid. You had to come from there, wrapped in tears and looking terrible. A sigh escaped your lips and you just rested your head against the car seat. Your eyes squeezed shut and a tear escaped them.

“No, leave it,” you quickly wiped away that tear with the back of your hand and Aegon felt violent. He had seen you cry before, but it had always been when you were younger, in Aemond's room and, of course, his brother had always been there for you. The eldest Targaryen only knew you in a much less intimate context. He found you quite nice considering the people Aemond usually chose as friends and Aegon had to confess that he had looked at your ass on more than one occasion at one of the parties they had at his house when his parents were away. He did like you somewhat, but he had imagined you as his sister-in-law until Alys appeared in Aemond's life. “Could you drop me off at the bus station?”

“Yes, of course,” Aegon drove in silence. So, yes, you had argued with Aemond's girlfriend. He didn't see you capable of crying about it, or about the situation. Your tears must have had another explanation. Aegon looked at the clock. It was quite late and you probably wanted to take the last bus that would take you to that small city so close to King's Landing. But, you weren't going to have time and that boy thought about whether it was advisable to leave you with such a short dress, such disastrous looks and such uncomfortable shoes in such a lonely season so late. He couldn't think of anything better than the stupid thing he said next. “Um… you could come to my apartment. Uhmmm, I would need someone to cure my lip and eyebrow…” he scratched the back of his neck while his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He thought it was better to keep you in his house with such a stupid ruse than to endure the scolding Aemond would give him if anything happened to you. Besides, a small part of Aegon, very small, actually worried that something might happen to you. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and only saw you completely blushing. He would have killed to know what you were thinking, but your only mind was that it was the same apartment you had stayed the night in many other times, before Alys started dating Aemond. The couch had always seemed comfortable to you, although Aemond had always left you his bed and he had gone to sleep on the couch. How many nights had you slept there thinking that Aemond would show up in the middle of the night? But, he had never done it and you had never approached the sofa either. You were both too shy or stupid to do it. “Okay, it was stupid and…” Aegon started rambling and you just looked at his wounds. Maybe you could help him.

"OK. Alright. Let's go to the apartment” you replied as you relaxed in the passenger seat and brushed your arms again, freezing to death. Maybe it was better than spending the night waiting for the next bus. You would leave in the morning. You were sure that Aemond and Alys had booked a hotel room for that night. You wouldn't see them. Nothing would happen. You preferred to spend the night under the same roof as Aegon than alone and soaked at the station.

The next thing you remembered was Aegon shirtless. Sitting on the toilet bowl, drinking a bottle of Vodka. The same concoction you were using to rub on the wound on your eyebrow. It was quite deep and did not seem to slow down in its efforts to bleed scandalously. You weren't good at that. You've never had to heal a wound like that on anyone. You and Aemond had always been calm and smart enough to stay out of trouble, even when you were in high school.

Aegon let out another pitiful whimper as the cotton touched the wound again. You only came closer, but Aegon couldn't help but think that you smelled too good. He had your breasts at eye level and found them fascinating. He just took another sip from the bottle while he kept looking at them. You continued in silence, too focused to pay him any attention. Aemond had been an asshole for not telling you when it was obvious that he had had a crush on you all through high school. The eldest Targaryen moved again as the cotton touched the wound again and you just grabbed his chin.

“Please, if you don't stay still I'm not going to move forward with this” you whispered to him while you kept looking at the wound. He liked your worried eyes, your eyes fixed on him, even if it was to heal a simple wound. “I don't know why they did this to you, but it doesn't look good,” you murmured as you dipped a new cotton ball into the bottle that had finally been freed from his hands and he just chuckled.

“Well, at least they didn't kill me. If they had killed me, I wouldn't be able to pay them back the money I owe them” Aegon joked and you just narrowed your eyes while shaking your head. Not a single smile had appeared on your lips and that was almost a way to make Aegon vulnerable, or maybe it was just a strategy to get you into his bed that night. Aegon wasn't sure what was wrong with you. With you. On that one and first time that you were alone and showed genuine concern for him.

“Don't move,” you whispered, still focused on the wound. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped and keeping an eye on that was better than thinking about how ridiculous you had been at Alys's party. Aegon didn't move and just sighed, relaxing his muscles.

“I know I'm a fucking mess. "I'm sorry," Aegon replied. He bit his cheek and just looked at the ground. He would always be the biggest failure of all his brothers. The stupid. The headless one... the lost one... While you healed him in silence, he reflected on it. Would any of his friends cure him like you were doing? The answer was clear and he couldn't feel more of a failure than ever. Shirtless. Sitting in the bathroom. With a girl who was out of his league. “I guess you think I'm a failure…” he whispered and closed his eye, grimacing painfully before you put that stitches on him, and yet you stopped. He looked at you and saw only pity in your eyes.

It hadn't been an easy night for either of you.

“Why would I think that?” you told him, wrinkling your face, almost in a sneer at the image he must have of you, if he thought that you thought he was a failure.

“Well…” he shrugged his shoulders “I wasn't able to finish my degree, I haven't been able to keep a job for more than three months straight, and I just got beaten up for owing money in a cockfight…” he sighed and finished. smiling, almost in a pathetic way that made your heart ache, as if you had never seen him before as the human being he was, as more than just your best friend's older brother. “I'm never going to have a PhD or a girl who is always in love with me… I will never be as perfect as Aemond…” He looked straight into your eyes and you just looked at him with eyes full of tears. He had struck a chord.

He was right that you would always have a crush on Aemond. You quickly wiped away your tears and approached him again. You placed the stitch and he only pretended to moan in pain to make you laugh. “What a bad nurse you are” he whispered and made you laugh.

“You don't want to be as blind as Aemond,” you said in a whisper and he just laughed.

“Damn, he's one-eyed, what a way to say that…” he laughed, getting up from the toilet and you narrowed your eyes, separating yourself from him, ready to wash your hands in the sink. He looked at you smiling at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and you looked back at him with a half smile.

“You know that's not what I mean,” you told him and he just laughed again.

“I know, but the joke was there. I just saw the opportunity” he shrugged again and you came closer just to sniff him. He saw your face scrunching up and laughed loudly. “I should take a shower, would you like to come with me?” He asked in a joking, but suggestive tone and you just punched him in the chest, laughing for the first time that night.

“Can you take a shower, please?” you asked him and he just looked you up and down. That pretty, damaged dress. All your hair wet. You were a mess.

“Right now,” he said, leaving the bathroom, running towards his room. You didn't know whether to follow him and you ended up doing so, almost like a mother following a small child. Now you knew how Aemond felt every time he told you each of his older brother's crazy things. However, you arrived at his room to only see him with a tender smile and grabbing one of his old t-shirts. “You're soaked… and… you're going to end up catching a cold…” He offered you the shirt and that tender gesture broke your heart. Before, Aemond had always had those tender gestures with you, now... three years later... and with Alys... none of that existed.

You blushed and pushed him into the shower, laughing. How long had it been since you laughed like that?

“We're not going to watch a documentary about Ancient Valyria,” he screamed at you, while flipping through the many pay channels he had. You laughed and knelt on the couch, trying to get the controller away from him. You missed having that complicity with someone, and you wondered how you could have reached that intimate point with Aegon, wearing one of his shirts, sitting with him in the living room of his apartment... it almost seemed like you were back with Aemond and then, he came back to stretch your arm, separating the TV remote from your possible grip. You tried to grab him again, falling on top of him and Aegon just put his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face to his and... he simply kissed you, closing his eyes, while your eyes remained wide open. His lips landed on yours and he moved them energetically, feeling a kind of strange connection with you. You didn't close your eyes even once. You didn't believe what was happening, much less did you know how to react to that kiss that didn't upset you, but it didn't excite you either. How many times have you imagined Aemond kissing you on that couch while you were watching one of the documentaries he liked so much? Aegon finished and opened his eyes to only be met with your wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You looked down and he just laughed, feeling like a loser again… “Has it been that bad?” He asked, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he'd screwed up…because, that's how he always felt. That damn feeling of always screwing up.

However, you kissed him again. It was a childish and vindictive feeling, stupid and immature. You only remembered Alys's words. Maybe the problem was the same thing that Alys had told you at the entrance to that exclusive club, maybe... you just needed to get laid by the first person who had invited you to a drink, and Aegon had done much more than that.

He accepted all your kisses, feeling like a winner. He had surpassed Aemond for the first time in his life. He had the girl of his dreams and he planned to rub it in his face how good a match he was for you... Besides, you didn't see him as a loser, and that made his heart beat harder. Your kisses were proof of this.

You ended up sleeping with Aegon, without much more than a few kisses, in the same bed in his apartment, without him letting go of you all night. Hugging you and you felt a special connection with him... As if all the attention and care he needed fell on you... and, unbeknownst to you, Aegon began to think that you were his girlfriend that very night... you ended up cuddled up, with him hugging you. body, and you slept... Aegon was just a patch to alleviate your loneliness, but wasn't that what love was about?

“But… What are you doing here?” Alys closed the refrigerator door roughly and you woke up from the sleepy trance you were in. You had only gone for a glass of water to continue sleeping.

Your best friend crossed her arms. The nightgown that left little to the imagination contrasted with the old t-shirt Aegon had left you to sleep in. You were both in your underwear, although in a very different way. She looked you up and down, as if you were a real scumbag and you only spoke with the shyness that characterized you, with the fear that you had always really had of Alys, it wasn't about respect. It was about fear. She had always been better than you and had constantly reminded you of that. “I was coming for water,” you whispered. You looked at her as if she were an alien, as if you didn't want to have anything to do with her since the argument the night before, because you didn't want to see her again. Never more.

“Well, I imagine that's what you were coming for…” he told you, looking at you again, as if he were scanning you. “That shirt is Aegon's…” he whispered, grabbing one of the sleeves as if it would give him a rash and you blushed, breaking free of his grip.

“Why don't you go fuck Aemond? It's the only thing you know how to do” you whispered to her, angry, like you had never been before and she smiled contemptuously, as if everything was beginning to unfold in her head. You were angry and hurt, much more hurt than angry.

“Don't fuck with me, (Y/N). Are you fucking Aegon?” She smiled, with that smile so beautiful and evil at the same time. “Are you so pathetic that since you can't sleep with Aemond you end up fucking his loser brother? Oh really?" she smiled again.

“Leave me alone, bitch,” you said. The voice was icy and she paled. She would never have believed you capable of calling him that. “If you had been my friend, you wouldn't have fucked him,” you told her. A tear running down your face. “Because you knew I was in love with him… because you fucking knew it…” you whispered under your breath. You felt another tear running down your face. And it wasn't just because Aemond had chosen her, it was because she had always known... she had been your best friend... until that night...

“You will always be a pathetic, losing creature. “Did you want Aemond to end up with a loser like you?” She asked you and at that moment, you froze.

Aemond appeared there, without his sweater, without his eyepatch, and looked at you both as if that had been the revelation of his life... always so blind... he had heard everything and opened his mouth to say something, but you just walked out of the room. You headed towards Aegon's room and closed the door behind you. You had already made a decision.

Alys watched as her boyfriend nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Aemond…” she whispered, approaching him, trying to get him to take her into his arms again, but Aemond only pushed her away, closing his sole tightly. How could he have been so blind? Alys… Alys had always told him that you weren't interested and he… had believed her, because it was the easy way… to believe her… “Let's go to bed” she whispered, hugging him from behind, kissing his back while he tried to process everything, in complete silence. “She's always going to be a pathetic, losing creature…” she began whispering and Aemond couldn't take it anymore. It had been like this for too long.

“Go away,” he said in a firm voice and Alys stopped kissing his back. She pulled away and Aemond just turned away, not meeting her eyes. He repeated the same command “Go away.”

“But…” Alys started to speak, but Aemond just grabbed her arm and looked her straight in the eyes. His eyes seemed to have forgotten all the desire and adoration he had had for her during those three years.

“Go away,” he whispered again. At that moment he hated her, but above all he hated himself for having always been so blind. Alys left, and it took him two years away from you to clarify what he felt... He had always been selfish...

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #modern aegon x reader #modern aegon targaryen #modern aegon ii

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my-own-walker · 2 years ago

Note

Hiya!!!! I was wondering if you do peter maximoff smut? 😅😅😅 If you do, I have a request-but if you don't maybe you could make it like Tate or Kyle? <3

I was wondering if you could do something like Peter (if you can) like using his vibrations and going down on the reader(fem!) while making her read her smutty diary entries about him after he read what was in it? :) THANK YOU BESTIE MWAHHH

I Warned You

note: forgive me if this sucks. my emotions have been all over the past few days and i burned the FUCK out of my hand last night.

warnings: sm*t, oral f receiving, peter being a slut, etc

+++

It was a rather oppressive day, heat-wise. One of those sticky hot, thighs chafing, greasy bangs days. The sun shined down in a hazy way on the neighborhood I lived in. As I sat there in my denim shorts and big t-shirt, I reminisced on the days of summer as a child. How I'd spend them with my best friend, Peter.

He was the first person I met when I moved here. I was two, to be fair, so I don't remember much of it all. He's always been a permanent fixture in my life. Someone who was just...always there.

He lived next door. Just like a cliche movie. We would ride bikes and draw on the ground with sidewalk chalk together. He was my second-grade boyfriend. He decided to ‘ask me out’ on the last day of school. He learned in school how to say 'I love you,' in sign language just before he asked to hold my hand on the playground on that day in June. He signed it any chance he could. When his mom drove us home in her minivan that day, he held up the sign. Our little secret.

That summer was pure childhood bliss. Innocence. We really didn't 'break up,' per se. When we entered the third grade that September it was just mutual that we had crushes on other kids. We still stayed friends. I'd hang out at his house after school every day until my parents got home. When the weather was warm, I'd sit outside on my porch waiting for him after dinner. Then, like clockwork, we'd find something to do.

As we got older our activities changed. He taught me how to skateboard. I taught him how to trespass on the baseball fields that were tucked down a back street in our neighborhood. We'd swing on this old tire swing over the stream that ran through our backyards.

In our sophomore year of high school, he bought an old car with dreams to fix it up. A 1965 Ford Mustang. It was rusty, beat up, and had no engine. The windshield was shattered and the inside wasn't upholstered. The only working part of it was its radio. When I walked out of my front door on the day he brought it home, he slapped it on its hood, proudly declaring, 'I'm gonna take you to prom in this thing, baby!' We sat in the old thing all afternoon listening to the radio.

I had known about his abilities the whole time. I never got into foot races with him as a kid for that reason. He would beat me every time. Peter had it under control, for the most part, but only when he wanted to. He started getting brazen with it as a teenager. He'd take me on these wild adventures where he'd steal things. The first time it was just some candy from a convenience store. By the time he got that damned car, he was stealing entire carburetors. These trips took all of 2 minutes. Just the two of us speeding off to create havoc.

Somewhere along the way I fell in love with him. Or maybe it wasn't even that. I can't remember a time when I didn't love him. It changed, though. I started to feel things toward him I'd never felt before. When he'd hold my head to prevent me from getting whiplash as we were making our hasty escapes from his escapades, I'd find chills would run up my spine.

Our beautiful little romance blossomed once he finally got his Mustang up and running. Not that he needed it, really. He was leagues faster than any car. He just wanted to be able to transport more things. And his new girlfriend. We started dating in junior year. He had just gotten his license and took me on a ride one night. We parked down a backstreet in our town and our lips finally met. At long last, his fast fingers were allowed to explore my body in a way I had never allowed him to before. It was wonderful, awkward, and hungry. Everything a teenage love affair should be.

He ended up taking me to the prom in that car, just as he'd promised. He looked so smart in his little tux. We spent that entire summer simply enraptured with each other. Our hangouts transformed from outdoor antics to being tangled in my bed, fan on max speed, windows open to hear the mourning doves sing outside. I can still smell the fresh summer air and the smell of him combining to make something all-encompassing and intoxicating.

It was the next summer on this very hot day. Peter and I had been dating for a year. He was away, hanging out with his friends or something. I was home alone. I sat there on my porch, diary resting lazily on my lap, staring off at the hanging 'FOR SALE,' sign on my yard in front of me . I switched between twirling my pen in my hands and chewing the end of it, deep in thought.

It was always the deal in my house. As soon as I graduated, as the youngest kid in my family, we'd move away again. My parents weren't happy with the town. They knew I had made my life there, but a deal was a deal. I couldn't imagine a life without Peter.

When the sign went up on my front lawn, I began a diary. I was never a writer. I was horrible at keeping up with writing entries in a tiny book. But knowing my life was about to change, I began scratching down every small detail about my life. My time in this house. My childhood. My life with Peter. It was a passion project. I wanted to document everything so I'd never forget.

Peter interrupted my deep inner turmoil. Well, not exactly him. His loud-ass car pulled up, parking in the driveway next door. He stepped out of the car singing, keys jingling in his hands. Like clockwork, his head turned to see if I was on my porch. Our routine since we were kids. In a flash, he was sitting next to me.

'Hey pretty,' he breathed, kissing me gently on my cheek.

'Hey Peter,' I smiled, looking up at him. Whenever he was near me I couldn't help but get wrapped up in him. Swept away in his deep brown eyes and sea of silver hair. There was a palpable feeling between the two of us. Dancing around the topic of me moving away, even though the signs were all around us, literally. It was a tension that colored every moment of our time together, yet we tried in earnest to ignore it.

'Whatcha got there?' he asked, half-taunting, as he usually did.

'Oh, haha,' I blushed, clapping the book shut and tucking the pen inside. 'It's nothing, just a planner.'

'A planner? Y/L/N, when have you ever been the type to schedule things?' he scoffed. 'Gimme that.' He lunged for the diary. I curled my body up tight into a ball, the book nestled safely between my lap and chest. My arms secured it even further.

'Peter! Stop it! I gotta get my shit together,' I whined. 'Like, plan out packing!'

'Packing for what?' he asked sarcastically, still trying in vain to pry the diary from my grasp. In his desperation, he attempted the only trick he had left to get me to let go. He started tickling my sides. It was a surefire way to piss me off, but also to get me to let go. The diary clattered to the ground as I stood up quickly to get away from his hands tickling me at light speed. He paused for a moment to grab the diary off the ground.

'Hey, thanks!' he exclaimed, taking off in a flash inside my house, leaving only the wind behind to prove he was there.

I clamored inside behind him, calling after him as I stumbled up the stairs. He was already laying on my bed, on his side, reading my diary entries when I got to my room.

‘DON’T read those!’ I panted in vain. ‘They’re so bad!’

‘Oh, these little stories?’ he smirked, looking up only with his eyes. ‘I think they’re pretty good.’

My cheeks burned hot. I stepped into the room and slammed the door shut. He held the book up closer to his face and squinted. ‘Peter, please, I’m warning you,’ I pleaded.

‘His tongue slid into me. All of my insides felt warm and tingly…’ he read out.

‘OH MY GOD NO!’ I rushed over to him, trying to pry my diary out of his hands. I was on the bed on my knees doing what I could to get my embarrassing writing back. He and his super speed, though, had other plans. I gave up after minutes of trying, tired of grabbing at a person that wasn’t even there by the time my hands reached him. He stopped his motion and was right back where he started on my bed.

‘I think I got what I needed,’ he smirked. ‘Let me review the highlights with you…’

He moved quickly, without using his super speed, to lay me down my my back. I didn’t object. He was always gentle with me, careful not to use his speed unless I asked him to. Peter hated anything that took a long time, but with me he always had patience. Well, unless it was taking my clothes off.

Peter worked quickly to get every inch of fabric off my body. His smooth hands rubbed all over my skin as he kissed me passionately. He stopped to pick up the diary that had been discarded to the side on my bed.

‘Let’s see…’ he muttered, pinning my shoulder down with one hand, his legs straddling my lap. ‘He spread my legs slowly…okay I can do that.’

The diary was once again dropped so he could part my thighs. His hot breath hovered over my weeping cunt.

‘Right, right, then the tongue part,’ he reminded himself. He kissed all along the insides of my thighs, eventually making contact with my middle. My toes curled and my breath hitched. I was ready for what he was about to do. He slipped his tongue into me and my eyes rolled back. He flicked his tongue over my clit, making me yelp out.

He separated himself from me to grab my diary again.

‘You’re gonna have to read this next part, Y/N, I’m a little preoccupied here,’ he instructed. He passed the book into my shaking hands. I didn’t even have the energy to protest. I just wanted to feel his warmth within me again. His mouth reconnected with my pussy.

‘H-his abilities came in handy when giving me head,’ I panted. ‘He can do this thing- thi- this thing where he vibrates.’ I could only choke out so much in my pleasure.

I felt him take a few deep breaths before beginning to vibrate at sonic speed. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The first time he did it, I thought I would just about die. He pulled away for a moment.

‘Keep reading,’ he breathed. I whimpered, shaking hands once again opening the diary. He reconnected with my middle again and I let out a loud moan.

‘He kn-knows how to make m-me purr like a kitten. There’s n-nothing like it,’ I sputtered out.

I didn’t have much left in me. He, acting as my own personal vibrator, brought me to my limit. I came with a loud yelp, laughing immediately after. Peter stopped vibrating and laid on top of me, his face meeting mine.

‘You are SUCH a dick, Maximoff,’ I giggled.

‘I thought it was sexy, how you write about me and all,’ Peter shrugged. He peppered kisses all over my face and neck as we both caught our breath. For a fleeting moment, nothing in the world mattered. All we cared about was each other. For a moment, I wasn’t moving away. It was us and us only. ‘You’re a million miles away, beautiful. What’s wrong?’

Snapping out of my trance, I planted a kiss on his lips. ‘Nothing at all, Peter. Just really ready for round two,’ I smirked.

+++

I really enjoyed this one. Thank you so much for this request! I promise I’ll write more this week. It’s been cray cray on my end.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #evan peters x female reader #evan peters fic #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters oneshot #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff smut

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pinkkittysaw · 11 months ago

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I agree with your tags on that rb btw angel!! I don’t shame anyone’s decision to have a kid. Hell, every mother in my family except for one has had at least two kids before 22. And that’s fine!! I think at least for me my gripe is the social media aspect of it. So much of the content coming from family vloggers / family tiktokers is making profit off of children without the kids consent or even having children for the sake of views… or putting kids personal info / medical info out there… and I do feel like a lot of what we see paints a certain lifestyle that statistically is unattainable for most young families (unless they convert to Mormonism akdjskdj that’s a whole other topic) idk something about the social media aspects of it rubs me the wrong way in a “Christian fascism conspiracy” kinda way LOL.

But I did see some tags on that post that are just shaming young families and that’s just not right.

- aleks

for context, i deleted a reblog to this tumblr post here but i will share the tags of that post under the cut since i took a screenshot of them then deleted the post after i got this ask

i definitely didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t agree with my tags. my problems with the post were honestly from other people who reblogged it, not with that you said in particular /lh

i agree with you on your points in regards to the social media aspect of it all and the harmful effects of “influencers” showboating their children online for views/interactions. i think it’s very weird…to say the least.

obviously this is a lot more nuanced than a simple brush stroke of, “it’s all bad or it all isn’t”. there’s a million and one factors and a million and one scenarios to each individual situation and that’s why it can be difficult to articulate points on a particular situation, especially on social media.

i do think the people on social media who paint staying at home and having kids as something that should be ideal for every “woman” and romanticize it as well are also harmful. especially if said people making these posts are earning an exuberant amount of $$$, when that’s not the case for most people today.

(i don’t want to be negligent of the fact that women aren’t the only gender who can and do give birth but often times when consuming media where these social norms are praised, cis women are often the target audience specifically although these social norms do effect all people who can give birth)

social media heavily influences people, i definitely won’t deny that.

there are people and institutions in place that are abusive and preach/push this rhetoric that staying at home and raising a family while still being young is the most fulfilling/best/only option one can have. i don’t want to take away from anyone’s experience from the harm that’s caused.

i am very much a proponent of educating people on sex, birth control, pregnancy, financial independence/literacy because unfortunately, some of these stay at home moms/wives/girlfriends are put in abusive situations and have nothing to fall back on to help themselves rebuild their life.

I GET that is the point with a lot of posts like the one i initially reblogged are ultimately saying.

I GET that they’re criticizing world views that have kept women in an oppressed position for so long.

(not to say that they aren’t still oppressed in today’s society but hopefully you (general) get what i mean with my point)

my biggest biggest problem with all these posts is that they don’t critique the harmful institutions that create scenarios where domestic violence/misogyny/ general harm may arise, they just broadly critique all young parents (and mothers especially).

that’s truly my main issue with it all. not every young parent was forced to have children and to imply that the only “valid” (for lack of a better term) reason for people to have children that young is if they were in a position where they were forced to is also…wrong.

my mom had me when she was in her teens (later teens but still) she wasn’t forced or coerced into choosing to keep me, does that then make her decision “wrong” or make her a shameful person for choosing to keep me? even though she was young? and “didn’t have a future” like so many people in the reblogs love to say. i should surely hope not.

not everyone’s life stories look the same. i too wanted kids. back when i was eighteen i genuinely thought my future was going to contain three little kiddos and a husband. it was only little over a year ago, that i realized that wasn’t really the life i wanted to have, at least for the time being (granted, the time gap between 18-21 isn’t really a large one). me choosing to not pursue a life with children does not make me a better or worse person and that’s the root of what i think all these posts are about.

“you’re inherently wrong and bad for choosing to have kids at a young age” except now it’s repackaged to seem more feminist than before when really, it’s the same exact branding of shame that teen moms have been getting for years and it’s that same shame that prevents people from reaching out and getting the resources they need.

it doesn’t matter what my personal views on teen/young adult pregnancy are because there are always going to be young parents regardless of the amount of education we give them. some people just want to have kids at a young age and that doesn’t make them inherently bad people.

if people who make posts like that want to critique trad wife culture, christian conservatism (which is indeed a whole other can of worms), other systems in place that take advantage of vulnerable girls/women and force them into give birth at a young age, i’m all for it. i just wish they wouldn’t go about it in the most obtuse way possible because then you get a thousand people in the tags being like “i feel sorry for my friend who’s having a kid” “you’re young and stupid too why bring a kid in this world”

the shame that these posts create and endorse is what i have a problem with, not the actual message behind it.

ANYWAY, this was all very long winded but i wanted to make sure i got out everything i wanted to say. also this was more of a general post on my whole thoughts on the matter, not specifically to you aleks /lh

i never meant to imply that you held the beliefs that i was criticizing in that initial reblog and i apologize if it came across like i was.

#✰ミ NEW HIT SINGLE!#TRACK: STARLESS NIGHT ˏˋ✩ˊˎ #ask to tag

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chromaticcrazyass · 2 years ago

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About TOH Ending

So I made a post way back when on a deleted twitter account how I was worried about the ending of The Owl House. One of my least favorite endings to the “Human person goes to magical other world and goes on a life changing adventure” stories is when the human, despite thriving and growing more than they had in the human world and clearly being a better person and ultimately happier in their new environment, returning the the same old same old of the human world despite no clear benefit simply because they are human or still have some kind of connection to the human world.

I was worried this would be the route The Owl House would take, with Luz and her mom going back home and giving some big sad farewell to their friends and found family because “the adventure’s over so we gotta return back to the familiar” (this is the part of the Hero’s Journey I hate the most). Luz is clearly thriving and is much happier in the Boiling Isles. She doesn’t feel as oppressed (which she would have at Summer Camp), and she grows to be adapt to the new world she’s in and it brings out the best in her. She makes friends, has a found family via Eda and King, gets a badass girlfriend, learns magic despite being human and overcomes her limitations through unconventional means, and I would have been seriously disappointed if it all got thrown away with her going home and the “lesson” being that she grew as a person and can now apply that to everyday life. Luz isn’t suited for everyday life, even after her growth. It’s why she’s able to adapt and become so accustomed to the Boiling Isles in the first place.

The fact that she stays in the Boiling Isles and even goes to school there rather than a human school was immensely satisfying and a huge sigh of relief for me. Let her be happy in a place that makes her happy and brings out the best in her. Not only that, but she brings out the best in the Boiling Isles as well. It would have been a huge disservice if they had separated the two because of what Luz is rather than acknowledging who she is and why she belongs in the Boiling Isles.

Also shoutout to her mom for being everything I ever wanted out of a mother and being so incredibly supportive of Luz and trusting her even in the face of what was probably to her a whole lotta chaos and weird scary shit.

#the owl house #toh finale #toh rant #just something I noticed as a storywriter #beautiful writing and the best ending we all deserved #also don't think I didn't notice the expectation subversion with her packing up her room #making it seem like she's back in the human world and going to human school #when really she's where she belongs #luz noceda #toh luz

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renon4224 · 1 year ago

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FIND THE WORD WIP TAG GAME

Rules:

Tag a couple people, give them some words, and have them find everywhere that word appears in their WIP(s)

Thanks @fakegingerrights for the tag!

They gave me: Blood, Hold, and Sigh.

WIP 1: Love Letters

However, we do request a sure sign that your daughter has not been corrupted by her father, King Consort Azazel’s blood, if you cannot provide us with said proof, then we will cut ties with Fairbeach and all of its territories.

As you required, my daughter will be given to Bahamut’s priestesses and be held in meditation in his temple, she will not be seen until her eighteenth birthday, on which we will be holding a ball if you wish to see for yourself the purity of my daughter you will come to the ball and see that no evil has ever touched her heart or blood.

Good tidings to you and your, I am so sorry to see that you still hold my mother in a negative light for freeing our kind from the unfair oppression against them.

Egarron has chosen Alliana but would my aunt and uncle hold Grandmother’s beliefs higher than Mother's?

WIP 2: Fire On Fire

I could feel the blood, a metallic taste in my mouth, but he was right.

I could feel the blood rush, and I was swaying.

“Akemi.” Kioko wasn’t looking at me or Katsuki, she was looking at the ground, trying to hold back tears, “Please.”

“Just hold on, give her some bread to try and help with that, Katsuki should be home soon.”

“Hold on a second,” I put my hand to cover the mic on my phone and turned to Bakugou, “Hey, I’m gonna change real quick, don’t…..think I vanished or anything, kay?” I didn’t wait for a response, choosing to just go to Kemi’s room where I already had a change of clothes.

“So…Zez is gonna stay with us?” Kioko had finally met up with us, “Hold on Mom,” She faced us, “Ooh, is this your girlfriend? Cute, Mom wants me to tell you that I’m walking alone today,” She turned to Uraraka, “Have fun with your boy-toy.” She left, continuing her conversation with Mom.

WIP 8: Maybe In Another Life

“No, you won’t. You need fresh meat, a new body in your bed every night, someone who isn’t looking for long-term or connection or something real.” I sigh and my voice quivers, “ You haven’t wanted me for days, I’m left wondering if you even care while you’re off getting kinky with high schoolers!”

WIP 9: Angel Wings

Everyone took a step back, Bakugou had punched Mineta, not all that hard, but…he hit him, he leaned down to Mineta, “If you ever claim that what you try isn’t creepy again, I will make sure blood spills.”

Everyone let out a chuckle, I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, that was what she remembered?

“Did I do this?” I touched Bakugou’s arm, it had dried blood covering his forearm.

Second, there was a part of him-- And I didn’t know how potent that part might be -- that thirsted for my blood. (THIS IS NOT MY LINE, IT WAS AN EXCERPT FROM TWILIGHT)

I could feel the blood rising to my cheeks, when he’s around it feels like it’s just the two of us, “I don’t know how to te-”

"I-I don't really know, but your hands are warm, it makes me feel better." I felt the blood rush to my face, she…used my hands as stress relief?

It surprised me how small she was, just looking at her you would think she would be fine, but she was raised on barely anything, I’m surprised she can even hold herself up…

“I can’t hold her back much longer, everyone evacuate.”

“Hold on, what were you gonna say?" He was looking at me, hoping I would say something? "Akari?"

“You did just tell her to widen her friend circle, so it could be confusing to have you…..around as much as you have been,” A sigh, “If she is worth your time, she’ll come to her senses, you letting her have alone time could guide her to more friends.”

WIP 10: A Look At My Past

I hope I get a say, I know I’m only 13 but, that is MY blood cousin, NO ONE gets to take him away from his mom without facts.

WIP 12: Darkness

Blood, Dream, Time, Guide, Thought, Nature, or Technology.

WIP 17: Blood Is Fun

“Sure, she just sent her guard dog to threaten me into not spilling her secret.” If I had a mirror I would’ve drawn blood and gore on my face instead.

I heard a sigh and she rolled over, “How much did you hear?”

WIP 18: Fallen

Roya was right in front of me, on the ground, blood seeping out from where she fell, her beautiful eyes were covered with black soot, she was coughing up smoke.

I was walking towards the center of town, limping and covered in blood, sweat, and tears.

Hold on, why is MY room the only thing that didn’t go up in smoke?

WIP 19: Snow Queen

“ So tell me how am I supposed to come into the world without being tormented or laughed at?” he said with a sigh.

"I can’t do things as I used to when I was young.” he said with a sigh.

WIP 25

“Are you calling me one of those demonic bloodsuckers?” I scoffed, “It might be a bit of blood I couldn’t quite scrape away.”

WIP 26: Spies Can't Fall In Love

After she was gone they decided that in order to make the new prototype better, it needed parents, real blood and a body.

They asked WISE for the top agent, Twilight and then they found the Thorn Princess, and blackmailed her into giving the blood.

Just a replaceable agent, WISE forced Twilight to go away so he'd never know that the 'little drops of blood' turned into a real person.

She made his blood boil, so much grossness wrapped in a carelessly perfect shell.

"So…you're the reason WISE took my blood?" Twilight never thought that his blood would be used to make an enhanced human, or that she would be the girl he had cared for.

"A bruise that covers the break, disguising it as a smaller wound." I sighed, this man was the father I never knew, "A wound that could grow fatal." I whispered the last part, I wanted him to accept me as blood, if not at least a friend.

"I made friends with him in two weeks, and Anya couldn't play nice for ten years." I was arguing why I should matter to him, he was my blood, and I did his daughter's job in a fraction of the time.

Another god awful day without the politician's spilt blood.

WIP 27

They took my blood every day, and they would not let me leave the hospital.

WIP 28: Midnight

Mates have become rare, and one of the only tribes to still believe in mates, is the Blood Moon Pack.

I've been waiting for us to visit the Blood Moon pack for almost a year now.

When I arrived at the clearing, Deirdre's body was ravaged, her once pure white hair, soaked in blood.

Tears poured down my face, mixing with the blood of my children.

I awoke to the faces of my Father and our Luna, Ninurta, the smell of blood suffocating.

No one looked at me, they just looked at the lump of blood and gore next to me, the scent matched Azrail's.

She pulled me up to sitting and sat next to me, a slight glare in her eyes, she forced her lips on me and pushed me down, shock and panic coursed through me when I heard a pained snarl from the Blood Moon pack house.

The Luna of the Blood Moon pack wrapped Keahi in a hunting cloak, the color of dirt with fresh bloodstains.

"They are here," The girl straightened to her full height, her scent pure revulsion, "The Blood Moon pack puts the mate bond far above that of a little fling."

I pinned her against a tree, "I am the next Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, I do not tend to the scratches of an unmated Alpha."

When we got to the Blood Moon clearing, Balthazar and Keahi were already there.

I sigh and tell them the truth, Shane laughs and Gavin told me to just ask questions, not listen to rumors.

WIP 30: I'm Fine

He coughed, and blood came up. "Not a runt, half-blood." He rolled onto his knees and swayed, no one tried to catch him.

WIP 35: Heaven and Hell

“I didn't, I just wanted to talk to my….friend.” I hold Issac closer.

I sigh, “Call me Raza.” Might as well go all out, right?

WIP 37: Please, Not Again

Tears stained my cheeks, mixing with blood and dripping until they hit the ground.

WIP 38

I could feel the blood, a metallic taste in my mouth, but he was right. I could beat them, with one blast.

WIP 40: When Stars Fall

“No, come on, let’s wash the blood off your hands.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before dragging me to the bathroom.

He waits outside while I wash my hands, so much blood, it’s everywhere, on my hands, on my clothes, I can’t see past all the blood.

“Okay, okay, hold your horses, I’m coming!” One of the nurses opened the door, and I ran.

I walk the crowded halls and hold my head high, I can do this, I am NOT insane, I just need something to shut off the voices, like sleep, wait, no that makes it worse, I don’t want to do drugs or alcohol, but, no I will NOT give in.

I pull her into my arms and hold her there, she’s not alone, she doesn’t need to push me away.

WIP 41

“I am needed. And when the baby is born, I will come back, we will raise him or her. Together.” I hold his hands and try to comfort him.

“The main thing we hold against the goblins is what?” Noa asked, leaving the question open for us to answer.

FINALLY DONE. Thank you for the hard work @fakegingerrights

I'm tagging @conquerius37

Your words are: Bend, And, Jack

#RenyWrites #RenyObsessed #original content #mha fanfiction #toh fanfic

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freckleslikestars · 2 years ago

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Stars

Farscape, vaguely John/Aeryn fic, Terra Firma because I love Aeryn on earth fics.

conversations that go nowhere under an unfamiliar sky

1141 words, read here on AO3

Tonight, at the edge of the field,

I stood very still, and looked up, and tried to be empty of words.

What joy was it, that almost found me? What amiable peace?

Mary Oliver

~~~

It was oppressive, this little backwater planet. And that was saying something, coming from someone who had grown up on a command carrier. But it was oppressive in a different way. The atmosphere was thick, and the weather was hot and wet – muggy, John had said. Everyone watched their every move, waiting for them to slip up, do something alien. There was an artifice in their domiciles, prisons dressed up as palaces, with great lawns and windows to suggest an open freedom, when all they were doing was hemming them in. At least the cell-like rooms of peacekeeper ships didn’t deny what they were.

John was different here, too: even more distant than he had been since she’d returned, and all the while slipping back into his old life, old job, old girlfriend. She felt trapped, no way to leave without...without what? Without destroying Moya’s patchwork crew? Without leaving her heart behind? But staying hurt just as much, and where would she go anyway? So she watched the others experience Crichton’s Earth in all its garish glory, and she watched John slip from her grasp even more, and she glared up at the empty sky, and there were no stars here, and she yearned to be up on Moya’s terrace, with the rumble of Moya’s drives below her feet and an entire sky of stars before her.

‘You’ll catch a chill out here like that,’ his voice jolted her out of the sun lounger she had curled herself into, and it took an alarming amount of concentration not to let her surprise show on her face as she stared at him in the warbling glow of the pool lights.

‘Hardly. I’m more likely to suffer heat delirium.’

‘It’s under 60° out here, and you’re in my sister’s old daisy dukes.’

She looked down at herself, mouthing daisy dukes with a frown, trying to parse what he could mean.

‘The cut-offs. Shorts. They’re named after a character who always wore them on this 80s TV show. Though, the tank top’s not going to keep you much warmer.’

‘You forget, I’m more sensitive to the heat than you. The daytime is nearing intolerable on this godforsaken planet.’

He ducked his head and winced, guilt lining his brow and the corners of his mouth, ‘I’ll come up with a solution – something to help cool you down during the day.’ He nodded towards the pool, ‘swimming will help – you can ask Livvy for a suit if you want.’

‘I think I’d prefer to just stay inside during the day, avoid the sun.’

‘Good idea,’ he nodded, swallowing thickly. Under closer inspection, he was fidgety, nervous: clearly uncomfortable as he refused to make eye contact. ‘So, uh, whatcha doing out here.’

‘I wanted to see the stars, but...’ she nodded to the orange-tinged sky.

‘Ah. Yeah. That’s a problem, even out here on the cape.’

‘I am feeling... a very unfamiliar combination of emotions right now. Lost and alone and...I miss...Moya.’

His fidgeting halted, and he cast her a tender smile, ‘that ache in your chest? it’s called homesickness. I, uh...’ he turned his head over his shoulder, away from her, working his jaw. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

‘Oh, great. A Crichton idea. Because those only lead to certain death every other time.’

He chuckled and nodded, ‘this one’s harmless, I promise. Come on.’

‘Where?’

‘It’s a surprise.’

She held her ground, not shifting a muscle as he turned and started sauntering away, all false bravado, a little glimpse of her John. ‘In the cycles you’ve known me, have I ever once enjoyed a surprise?’

With a laugh tossed over his shoulder, he turned, a wolfish grin on his face, ‘well, I can think of a couple of times you enjoyed my surprises.’

She rolled her eyes but relented, following behind him at a few paces, unwilling to get too close. It wasn’t just Moya she was homesick for. He led her out to his car, unlocked it with a chirping beep and retrieved a hoodie for himself from the trunk before clambering into the driver’s seat and nodding over for her to get in the other side.

‘Tell me if you get too cold,’ he murmured, twizzling the aircon knob to its coldest setting and highest power. As he pulled away from the curb, he started fiddling with the settings on the radio, muttering to himself as they scanned through stations, ‘sorry, I took Chiana out to the mall again today – God, she loves that place more than a teenage girl – and she messed with all my settings.’

‘There’s a reason I never fly with her as copilot.’

‘Oh? And I thought it was because she doesn’t know how to fly.’

‘Well, there’s that, too.’

He hummed and continued to scroll from staticky station to staticky station until he landed on one playing oldies, and started humming along. ‘You know, I didn’t realise how much I missed having music onboard Moya – music I recognised, at least – until we got back here. If I’m ever to get lost in space again, I’m definitely going to need to make sure I pack a couple of road trip mixtapes.’

‘So you’ve made up your mind? You’re staying here?’

There was an uncomfortable pause, filled with tinny crooning from the speakers, before he cleared his throat, ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘This is my home, Aeryn. I’ve spent my last four years fighting my way back here, and...’ he sighed, ‘it’s home. You-‘ he cleared his throat, ‘you could stay, you know. If you wanted. When the others go back up to Moya, there’s always the option for you to stay. You look human, and we can work on your English, and-‘

‘John,’ she gave him a pained, bittersweet smile, ‘I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. This is your home, and I’m yet to find mine.’

They lapsed into silence after that, letting the crackling radio fill the air for the rest of the duration of the drive, the roads steadily decreasing in size until he pulled off onto a dirt track, drove for another ten minutes before pulling over.

‘Where are we?’

‘The middle of nowhere. Away from all the light pollution. Get out and look.’

She did as he said, slipping out of the car and tilting her face up. Pinpricks of light scattered the deep velvet, unfamiliar constellations, further away than she was used to seeing them. And, for a few moments, she felt just a little less homesick as she took deep breaths of the sweet fresh air, her eyes filling with the stars of John’s world.

#my writing #farscape fic #farscape fanfic #john crichton #aeryn sun #john x aeryn #terra firma

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skeletonsescapedthelab · 2 years ago

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Long flowly dresses, Chilling at home, No work stress, Not having your own money, Yummy food, Your husband beating you, Cute babies, ect.

Stay at home girlfriends on tik tok, and trad wives on Tumblr, are propaganda for traditional gender roles and oppression of women. Now I know this sounds extreme but let's look at the definition of propaganda. " information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view."

Now Trad wifes on Tumblr will show cute pictures of flowy dresses, fields, bread, and talk about all the feminine things they love. This only shows the good side and leaves out vital information. Like that the wife needs permission to go out, drive, get finances, ect. She must follow her husband's rules. Even if she chooses this life, the power dynamic is still abuse. They also won't tell you that "domestic discipline" means the husband spanking the wife, whenever he decides she did something wrong.

Then there is stay at home girlfriends. They will show their life of leisure without kids, or a job. They do want they want all day and chill. What they don't show you is that without a job they rely on someone else financially. They don't show you how hard it will be be to get a job if the relationship doesn't work out. They also talk about "feminine energy" this makes is seem like doing nothing but house chores comes naturally and is tied up with being a woman. It's a new way of wording old outdated beliefs.

I want to believe these people are not making propaganda on purpose. Social media is supposed to be fun. And life problems are very personal. For these reasons we often only show the happiest sides of things on social media. However, we still live in a society where a lot of people think women are lesser than men. So when women get in relationships where the man has more power and doesn't talk about that aspect of it, only the fun parts, it becomes propaganda even if that's not what she intended.

Now you might say, but those women choose to be in those relationships! Stop belittling them! give them freedom! I ask you why do we see women as stay at home wifes, girlfriends, in submissive roles, more than men? Why have I never seen a gay couple with this dynamic? It's mostly women in relationships with men getting into these iffy situations, why? It must have something to do with gender oppression.

Stay at home dads exist and I'm sure there are gay couples where only one works, but I'm still just as concerned for them as the women mentioned before.

Also if you're going to argue I should let women make their own choices without criticism

1. It's not just about women

2. Who gets to choose?

Most of these women are white. Also you must have a pretty rich partner to not work yourself. Most women don't have the choice of lifestyle they want, most people in general can't live in their ideal situation for that matter. So if you really support people's right not to work and focus on what they want, you should argue for a higher minimum wage so people can work less, or abolish capitalism all together. But as the system works right now, certain choices are dangerous ones.

If you hate having a job so much maybe you should do some anti capitalism activism, not give your partner an unhealthy amount of power in your relationship.

Here are some ways you can do that:

•Vote for socialist candidates

•campaign

•Support strikes

• volunteer at food banks, homless shelters, and other places that give free essentials

#financial abuse #physical abuse #abuse #abuse mention #activism #feminism #my opion #tik tok #comentary #Tumblr #gender oppression #gender

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taahko · 1 year ago

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maeves work took her out tonight to fucking nobu with pre dinner drinks at the RITZ and i spent my evening watching saw x and hemming my starfleet cosplay this is what feminism leads to

#shut up aggie #nobody is #more oppressed than the stay at home girlfriend

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broken-mirrors-binding-magic · 2 years ago

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Fictober Day 1 - I chose you

Fictober Day 1

Prompt: I chose you Story: Original Fiction: Broken Mirrors Characters: Amelia Wilson, Klaus Lehmann, Maylin Fuentes Ship: Amelia/Maylin, Maylin/Klaus

“Please be nice Melia, it took me three months to convince him that a change in scenery may help him.”

Amelia groaned, “Look, I get that he’s your friend and all Esme, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

She rolled her eyes when she finally turned to see Maylin’s expectant look, “Ok, fine, I promise to be on my best behavior, but I still don’t like the guy.”

Maylin’s bright smile and tight hug that followed only served to anoy Amelia, “Thank you Melia! It’s all I can ask of you!”

Amelia snorted as she grumbled, “You make me too soft.”

It didn’t take long after Klaus’s arrival for Amelia to reach her breaking point. She had never considered herself a jealous person, but the way he seemed to slip into their lives seamlessly had bothered her. She knew Maylin would think it was because they had been lovers in their past, but that wasn’t what bothered her. It was almost like having Klaus around made their home feel even more like a home than before, and it made her skin crawl to think she hadn’t been enough to create that warmth before.

“Look, it’s been six months, when are you planning on leaving?”

Klaus blinked in surprise, the two had been avoiding being alone together since he had arrived, “Excuse me?”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed as she poked Klaus’s chest roughly, “You heard me, you oaf. When are you getting out of my home? I think Esme’s taken care of you long enough, so when are you planning to hit the road?”

Klaus’s blue eyes narrowed for a moment, “What is your problem? I’ve stayed out of your way the entire time I’ve been here, I couldn’t possibly have offended you.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, Amelia shot him a glare, daring him to overstep, “You being here offends me. I should be running this cafe with my girlfriend, not watching her babysit you.”

“She invited me here for as long as I need to recover, I’m not here to try and break you two up!”

“Oh of course not! How is taking up all her time not trying to break us up? I know you still love her, everyone knows! I just didn’t think you’d stoop this low to try something!”

Klaus glared down at the blond, “I would never get in the way of her being happy! You make her happy, and while I don’t like you, that changes nothing. You’re the one avoiding her, you’ve been doing it since I arrived. Whatever this is about, has nothing to do with me!”

Amelia took a step back, caught off guard by the anger radiating off of the usually calm Klaus, but she wasn’t going to be intimidated out of getting answers.

Before either of them could register they were fighting, Amelia yelled, “Then why are you even here?!”

“Because she invited me!”

“She only invited you because you made her worry!”

“I didn’t ask her to worry about me!”

“But you did!”

The air became oppressive, filling with the tension of their magic, barely being restrained by the two. Klaus could feel his magic agitated in his hands, looking for a violent release, itching for the physical fight. Amelia wasn’t holding back any better, her own magic was pushing against the containment of her wooden bat, itching to be used against the man in front of her.

“I don’t want to fight you, Amelia!”

“Then stop trying to mess us up!”

“I’m not! Gods you’re as dense as your brother!”

“Don’t you dare bring Victor into this!”

“She wants to marry you, you idiot! She begged me to come help her plan the perfect proposal for your anniversary next month!”

“What?”

The room became filled with silence, as if everything before had been sucked out of the window. Klaus was heaving, filling the silence with his pants, he hadn’t meant to ruin Maylin’s surprise she had been working on for months, but Amelia had pulled it out of him. Amelia, on the other hand, continued to stare at him with genuine surprise.

Five minutes of silence passed before Amelia finally broke in, whispering, “Why?”

Klaus roughly rubbed his face, “What? How am I supposed to know why she wants to?”

Amelia shook her head, all traces of anger gone from her, “Why would you help with that? I… Everyone knows you still want to be with her.”

Klaus glanced away from Amelia, embarrassed that he had always been so easy to read when it came to Maylin, “Because she loves you, she chose you, and I want her to be happy. You make her happy. She’s my best friend before anything else. I don’t have any place trying to talk her out of being happy when you treat her well.”

Amelia opened her mouth to speak before he cut her off, holding his hand up, “And I’m glad she chose you. You don’t see how happy you make her.”

Maylin sighed, watching the two from the back kitchen, placing her cutting board down gently having watched the whole exchange. She knew they needed to confront one another, but hadn’t been sure if she’d need to step in to break them up from hurting one another. She was relieved to know they didn’t physically harm each other when they thought she was out, but her heart ached to hear the two of them. She hadn’t meant to hurt Klaus so much, and hadn’t realised that Amelia felt like she hadn’t been her always choice. She’d make sure to chat with them both tonight after dinner. She silently slipped out of the back door, she needed to finish the shopping she had told them she was heading out to do before unpacking their argument.

#fictober22 #original fiction #original characters #Amelia #amelia wilson #maylin x amelia #maylin #maylin fuentes #klaus #Klaus Lehmann #klaus x maylin #8th #October #2022 #October 8th 2022 #broken mirrors

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lightsaroundyourvanity · 4 years ago

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Bumbleby Big Bang: Nov 18-22

it’s been a crazy two weeks guys but sadly.......... the bumbleby big bang has come to an end (for 2020 at least!!) -- and WHEW. what an incredible ride. you guys have blown me away with your talent, with your enthusiasm, with your hearts. I never expected this little event to grow so big and so beautiful and like. wow. rock stars, every one of you. I can’t wait for next year!! 💕💕💕

Nov 6-9: Here

Nov 10-13: Here

Nov 14-17: Here

The Festival of Fauna

fic by @dazzleyourmindseye

art by @askjar

Eager to share a piece of her culture with her team, Blake invites Yang, Ruby and Weiss to a festival on Menagerie - a night of dancing, bonfires, and celebration of faunus heritage. Afraid of moving too fast and fracturing their newfound romantic relationship, Yang has been struggling to reign in her intense feelings for Blake – both physical and emotional. Blake is unsure of how to help her girlfriend loosen up – but a night of romance by the sea and under the stars just might do it.

By The Stars

fic by @letsseethroughdaphneblue

art by @m-lahulia

Everyone’s looking for something on the Remnant Cross-Continental Trail. Hiking from one end of Sanus to the other is no small feat. Most seek adventure, some go looking for themselves. Blake knows she’s looking for the latter, while Yang has convinced herself adventure is all she’s after. Over what feels like the longest and shortest months of their lives they confront past demons and admit to harsh truths. They start to find themselves in the trail and in each other along the way.

Dance Partners

fic by @ginalcelah

art by triggerman_art

My entry for the 2020 Bumbleby Big Bang! A canon-compliant "what if," set in Volume 7 and following Yang and Blake as they make the jump into their first date. It's a long night as they dance around accepting their love for each other, while their friends all reflect on how far they've come...and how far they may yet go.

While this is a stand alone piece, I also intentionally wrote parts of it to call back to an older Bumbleby fic of mine. I won't drop the story name, but if you've read it, then maybe this will read as somewhat of a sequel. If you haven't read it, don't worry! I specifically made sure this story stands on its own.

Flight

fic by @pugoata

art by @sunnyteea

art by @6iirls

AU: Blake is disillusioned: with her career in the White Fang Ballet, with her oppressive boyfriend and ballet master, and her life in general. A chance visit to the Shattered Moon Circus, however, introduces her to trapeze artist and aerial dancer Yang, who offers to teach Blake how to fly. As she learns to let go and trust in the people who catch her, she falls in more ways than one when it comes to Yang.

“Blake,” Sienna says, calmly. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

And maybe she has. After all, Blake can't just run away and join the circus.

Immolate My Devotion

fic by @sleebyswords

art by @celestialstariart

As the daughter of a Count to a nation of Faunus citizens, Blake Belladonna has to deal with blurry memories from a past life and finding an arranged marriage to protect her people from harm as their country’s King has been violently replaced and they are swept into an empire against their will.

Yang Xiao Long appears to be the only option Blake has left, but there’s something about her inky black hair and ferocious red eyes that seem unnatural on her. Yang is feared by almost everyone, but the more Blake learns about her new wife, the more familiar she becomes.

And why does Blake dream of golden hair and lavender eyes?

when i dream of dying i never feel so loved

fic by @thecousinsdangereux

art by @saigamiproject

Yang dies. She wakes up. She fights. She dies. The world stays the same, the situations barely change. Yang wakes up, she fights, she dies. She also falls in love — one repeated day at a time — with the one woman on Remnant who could possibly understand, even if her memories of Yang are erased with each reset. (Yang gets used to the dying, not so much the look in Blake’s eyes that marks her as a stranger.)

take it from your grave

fic by @twelveclara

art by @corvophobia

I’ll never leave you, even if it’s me. Yang makes a promise in spite of fate; fate makes her regret it.

Eight teenagers run away from home, bound by a duty to return for a ritual in which one of their lives will be traded for the rest of the world’s peace. At least, that’s what they’ve been led to believe since birth: Be strong, be smart, and be alone. If you are to die, it is an honor.

Or maybe it’s a lie.

Eight teenagers run away from home, and upon returning nine years later, they’ve broken a few too many rules to go quietly.

(Blake thought she was seeing things, then. Thought she loved a girl so much she made her a god, mythologized her, created a folktale so gorgeous and enormous it’d surpass the one they actually lived in. Now she knows she wasn’t.)

Eternity

fic by ace_hlnwst

art by @generalxiaolong

Yang Xiao Long is a captain in Vale's army. King James Ironwood is sending her on a dangerous mission after discovery of Yang's betrayal. An immortal beast lays in wait for Yang as she attempts to rescue missing people from the kingdom, rumoured to have settled in the middle of the forest under no rule. The more Yang learns about Vale and King Ironwood, the more she wonders if the missing people had the right idea, immortal beast or no.

From The Heart

fic by @softlighter

art by @yourfriendlele

Yang Xiao Long has seen it all at Patchwork Bakery. Engagements, graduations, birthdays, she’s baked a cake for it all. At least until she gets an order to celebrate the breaking off of an engagement. When she delivers the cake to a certain Faunus, she has no idea how her life will be forever changed. But life isn’t a recipe to follow step by step, and sometimes life requires baking from the heart.

#bumbleby #bumbleby big bang

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woman-loving · 3 years ago

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Lesbian Unintelligibility in Pre-1989 Poland

Selection from ""No one talked about it": The Paradoxes of Lesbian Identity in pre-1989 Poland, by Magdalena Staroszczyk, in Queers in State Socialism: Cruising 1970s Poland, eds. Tomasz Basiuk and Jędrzej Burszta, 2021

The question of lesbian visibility is pertinent today because of the limited number of lesbian-oriented activist events and cultural representations. But it presents a major methodological problem when looking at the past. That problem lies in an almost complete lack of historical sources, something partly mended with oral history interviews, but also in an epistemological dilemma. How can we talk about lesbians when they did not exist as a recognizable category? What did their (supposed) non-existence mean? And should we even call those who (supposedly) did not exist “lesbians”?

To illustrate this problem, let me begin with excerpts from an interview I conducted for the CRUSEV project [a study of queer cultures in the 1970s]. My interlocutor is a lesbian woman born in the 1950s, who lived in Cracow most of her life:

“To this very day I have a problem with my brothers, as I cannot talk to them about this. They just won’t do it, I would like to talk, but. . . . They have this problem, they lace up their mouths when any reference is made to this topic, because they were raised in that reality [when] no one talked about it. It was a taboo. It still is. ... I was so weak, unable to take initiative, lacking a concept of my own life—all this testifies to the oppression of homosexual persons, who do not know how to live, have no support from [others], no information or knowledge learned at school, or from a psychologist. What did I do? I searched in encyclopaedias for the single entry, “homosexuality.” What did I learn? That I was a pervert. What did it do to me? It only hurt me, no? Q: Was the word lesbian in use? Only as a slur. Even my mother used it as an offensive word. When she finally figured out my orientation, she said the word a few times. With hatred. Hissing the word at me.”

The woman offers shocking testimony of intense and persistent hostility towards a family member—sister, daughter—who happens to be a lesbian. The brothers and the mother are so profoundly unable to accept her sexuality that they cannot speak about it at all, least of all rationally. The taboo has remained firmly in place for decades. How was it maintained? And, perhaps more importantly, how do we access the emotional reality that it caused? The quotes all highlight the theme of language, silence, and something unspeakable. Tabooization implies a gap in representation, and the appropriate word cannot be spoken but merely hissed out with hatred.

Popular discourse and academic literature alike address this problem under the rubric of “lesbian invisibility” (Mizielińska 2001). I put forward a different conceptual frame, proposing to address the question of lesbian identity in pre-1989 Poland not in terms of visibility versus invisibility, but instead in terms of cultural intelligibility versus unintelligibility. The former concepts, which have a rich history in discussions of pre-emancipatory lesbian experience, presume an already existing identity that is self-evident to the person in question. They assume the existence of a person who thinks of herself as a lesbian. One then proceeds to ask whether or not this lesbian was visible as such to others, that is, whether others viewed her as the lesbian she knew she was. Another assumption behind this framing is that the woman in question wished to be visible although this desired visibility had been denied her. These are some of the essentializing assumptions inscribed in the concept of (in)visibility. Their limitation is that they only allow us to ask whether or not the lesbian is seen for who she feels she is and wishes to be seen by others.

By contrast, (un)intelligibility looks first to the social construction of identity, especially to the constitutive role of language. To think in those terms is to ask under what conditions same-sex desire between women is culturally legible as constitutive of an identity. So, instead of asking if people saw lesbians for who they really were, we will try to understand the specific epistemic conditions which made some women socially recognizable to others, and also to themselves, as “lesbians.” This use of the concept “intelligibility” is analogous to its use by Judith Butler in Gender Trouble, as she explains why gender conformity is key to successful personhood[...].

For Butler, cultural intelligibility is thus an aspect of the social norm, as it corresponds to “a normative ideal.” It is one of the conditions of coherence and continuity requisite for successful personhood. In a similar vein, to say that lesbians in the People’s Republic of Poland were not culturally intelligible is of course not to claim that there were no women engaged in same-sex romantic and erotic relationships—such a conclusion would be absurd, as well as untrue. It is, rather, to suggest that “lesbian” was not a category of personhood available or, for that matter, desirable to many nonheteronormative women. The word was not in common use and it did not signify to them the sort of person they felt they were. Nor was another word readily available, as interlocutors’ frequent periphrases strongly suggest, for example, “I cannot talk to them about this. ... They ... lace up their mouths when any reference is made to this topic” (my emphases).

Interviews conducted with women for the CRUSEV project are filled with pain due to rejection. So are the interviews conducted by Anna Laszuk, whose Dziewczyny, wyjdźcie z szafy (Come Out of the Closet, Girls! 2006 ) was a pioneering collection of herstories which gave voice to non-heteronormative Polish women of different ages, including those who remember the pre-1989 era. Lesbian unintelligibility is arguably a major theme in the collection. The pain caused by the sense of not belonging expressed by many illustrates that being unintelligible can be harmful. At the same time, unintelligibility had some practical advantages. The main among them was relative safety in a profoundly heteronormative society. As long as things went unnamed, a women-loving woman was not in danger of stigmatization or social ostracism.

Basia, born in 1939 and thus the oldest among Laszuk’s interviewees, offers a reassuring narrative in which unintelligibility has a positive valence:

“I cannot say a bad word about my parents. They knew but they did not comment. . . . My parents never asked me personal questions, never exerted any kind of pressure on me to get married. They were people of great culture, very understanding, and they quite simply loved me. They would meet my various girlfriends, but these were never referred to as anything but “friends” (przyjaciółki). Girls had it much easier than boys because intimacy between girls was generally accepted. Nobody was surprised that I showed up with a woman, invited her home, held her hand, or that we went on trips together.” (Laszuk 2006, 27)

The gap between visceral knowing and the impossibility of naming is especially striking in this passage. The parents “knew” and Basia knew that they knew, but they did not comment, ask questions, or make demands, and Basia clearly appreciates their silence as a favour. To her, it was a form of politeness, discreetness, perhaps even protectiveness. The silence was, in fact, a form of affectionate communication: “they quite simply loved me.”

Another of Laszuk’s interviewees is Nina, born around 1945 and 60 years old at the time of the interview. With a certain nostalgia, Nina recalls the days when certain things were left unnamed, suggesting that there is erotic potential in the unintelligibility of women’s desire. Laszuk summarizes her views:

“Nina claims that those times certainly carried a certain charm: erotic relationships between women, veiled with understatement and secrecy, had a lot of beauty to them. Clandestine looks were exchanged above the heads of people who remained unaware of their meaning, as women understood each other with half a gesture, between words. Nowadays, everything has a name, everything is direct.” (Laszuk 2006, 33)

A similar equation between secrecy and eroticism is drawn by the much younger Izabela Filipiak, trailblazing author of Polish feminist fiction in the 1990s and the very first woman in Poland to publicly come out as lesbian, in an interview for the Polish edition of Cosmopolitan in 1998. Six years later, Filipiak suggested a link between things remaining unnamed and erotic pleasure, and admitted to a certain nostalgia for this pre-emancipatory formula of lesbian (non)identity. Her avowed motivation was not the fear of stigmatization but a desire for erotic intensity:

“When love becomes passion in which I lose myself, I stop calculating, stop comparing, no longer anchor it in social relations, or some norm. I simply immerse myself in passion. My feelings condition and justify everything that happens from that point on. I do not reflect upon myself nor dwell on stigma because my feeling is so pure that it burns through and clears away everything that might attach to me as a woman who loves women.” (Kulpa and Warkocki 2004)

Filipiak acknowledges the contemporary, “postmodern” (her word) lesbian identity which requires activism and entails enumerating various kinds of discrimination. But paradoxically—considering that she is the first public lesbian in Poland—she speaks with much more enthusiasm about the “modernist lesbians” described by Baudelaire:

“They chose the path of passion. Secrecy and passion. Of course, their passion becomes a form of consent to remain secret, to stay invisible to others, but this is not unambivalent. I once talked to such an “oldtimer” who lived her entire life in just that way and she protested very strongly when I made a remark about hiding. Because, she says, she did not hide anything, she drove all around the city with her beloved and, of course, everyone knew. Yes, everyone knew, but nobody remembers it now, there is no trace of all that.” (Kulpa and Warkocki 2004)

Cultural unintelligibility causes the gap between “everyone knew” and “nobody remembers” but it is also the source of excitement and pleasure. For Filipiak’s “old-timer” and her predecessors, Baudelaire’s modernist lesbians, the evasion, or rejection, of identity and the maintaining of secrecy is the path of passion. Crucially, these disavowals of identity mobilize a discourse of freedom rather than hiding, entrapment, or staying in the closet. The lack of a name is interpreted as an unmooring from language and a liberation from its norms.

Needless to say, cultural unintelligibility may also lead to profound torment and self-hatred. In the concept of nationhood generated by nationalists and by the Catholic Church in Poland, lesbians (seen stereotypically) are double outsiders whose exclusion from language is vital.[1] A repentant homosexual woman named Katarzyna offers her testimony in a Catholic self-help manual addressing those who wish to be cured of homosexuality. (It is irrelevant for my purpose whether the testimony is authentic; my interest is in the discursive construction of lesbian identity as literally impossible and nonexistent.) Katarzyna speaks about her search for love, her profound sense of guilt and her disgust with herself. The word “lesbian” is never used; her homosexuality is framed as confusion and as straying from her true desire for God. The origin of the pain is the woman’s unintelligibility to herself:

“Only I knew how much despair there was in my life on account of being different. First, there was the sense of being torn apart when I realized how different my desires were from the appearance of my body. Despite the storm of homosexual desire, I was still a woman. Then, the question: What to do with myself? How to live?” (Huk 1996, 121)

A woman cannot love other women—the subject knows this. We can speculate that her knowledge is due to her Catholic upbringing; she has internalized the teaching that homosexuality is a sin, and thus untrue and not real. The logic of the confession is overdetermined: the only way for her to become intelligible to herself is to abandon same-sex desire and turn to God, and through him to men. Church language thus frames homosexuality as chaos: it is a disordered space where no appropriate language can obtain. Within this frame, unintelligibility is anything but erotic. It is rather an instrument of shaming and, once internalized, a symptom of shame.

For many, the experience of unintelligibility is moored in intense heteronormativity, without regard to Church teachings or the language of national belonging. Struggling with the choice between social intelligibility available to straights and leading an authentic life outside the realm of intelligibility, one CRUSEV interlocutor, aged 67, describes her youth in 1960s and 1970s:

“I always knew I was a lesbian ... and if I am one, then I will be one. Yes, in that sense. And not to live the life of a married woman, mother and so on. This life wasn’t my life at all. However, as I said, it was fine in an external sense. So calm and well-ordered: a husband, nice children, everything, everything. But it was external, and my life was not my life at all, it wasn’t me.”

She thus underscores her internal sense of dissonance, a felt incompatibility with the social role she was playing. The role model of a wife and mother was available to her, but a lesbian role model was not.

The discomfort felt at the unavailability of a role model may have had different consequences. Another CRUSEV interviewee, aged 62, describes her impulse to change her life so as to authentically experience her feelings for another woman, in contrast to that woman’s ex:

“She visited me a few times, and it was enough that I wrote something, anything ... [and] she would get on the train and travel across the country. There were no telephones then, during martial law. Regardless of anything, she would be there. And at one point I realized that I ... damn, I loved her. ... She broke up with her previous girlfriend very violently—this may interest you—because it turned out that the girl was so terribly afraid of being exposed and of some unimaginable consequences that she simply ran away.”

The fear of exposure, critically addressed by the interlocutor, was nonetheless something she, too, experienced. She goes on to speak of “hiding a secret” and “stifling” her emotions.

A concern with leading an inauthentic life resurfaces in the account of the afore-quoted woman, aged 67:

“I couldn’t reveal my secret to anyone. The only person who knew was my friend in Cracow. I led such a double life, I mean. ... It is difficult to say if this was a life, because it was as if I had my inner spirituality and my inner world, entirely secret, but outside I behaved like all the other girls, so I went out with some boys. ... It was always deeply suppressed by me and I was always fighting with myself. I mean, I fell in love [with women] and did everything to fall out of love [laughter]. On and on again.”

Her anxiety translates into self-pathologizing behaviour:

“In 1971 I received my high school diploma and I was already . . . in a relationship of some years with my high school girlfriend. . . . But because we both thought we were abnormal, perverted or something, somehow we wanted to be cured, and so she was going to college to Cracow, and I to Poznań. We engaged in geographic therapy, so to speak.”

The desire to “be cured” from homosexuality recurs in a number of interviews. Sometimes it has a factual dimension, as interlocutors describe having undergone psychotherapy and even reparative therapy—of course, to no avail.

Others decide to have a relationship with a woman after years spent in relationships with men. Referring to her female partner of 25 years, who had previously been married to a man, one of my interlocutors suggests that her partner had been disavowing her homosexual desires for many years before the two women’s relationship began: “the truth is that H. had struggled with it for more than 20 years and she was probably not sure what was going on.” Despite this presumed initial confusion, the women’s relationship had already lasted for more than 25 years at the time I conducted the interview.

Recognizing one’s homosexual desires did not necessarily have to be difficult or shocking. It was not for this woman, aged 66 at the time of the interview:

“It was obvious to me. I didn’t, no, no, I didn’t suppress it, I knew that [I was going], “Oh, such a nice girl, I like this one, with this one I want to be close, with that one I want to talk longer, with that one I want to spend time, with that one I want, for example, to embrace her neck or grab her hand”.”

Rather, what came as a shock was the unavailability of any social role or language corresponding to this felt desire that came as a shock. The woman continues:

“It turned out that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, that I couldn’t tell anyone. I realized this when I grew up and watched my surroundings, family, friends, society. I saw that this topic was not there! If it’s not there, how can I get it out of myself? I wasn’t so brave.”

The tabooization of homosexuality—its unintelligibility—is a recurring thread in these accounts; what varies is the extent to which it marred the subjects’ self-perception.

#lgbtq history #poland #lesbian history #unintelligibility #lesbian unintelligibility #this might be deleted in the future so read it while you can

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zotlel · 4 years ago

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Fall Into You (M) - 01

pairing: jaebeom x you

genre: romance, angst, series, eventual smut

synopsis: Your love life has been filled with nothing but bad experiences. Determined to give up on the idea of finding the one you meet a man who is desperate to change your mind and have you see him as more.

word count: 5.0k

This was it, you thought. It was something you had feared for months, something you wanted so desperately to not be true. You felt empty, dead, barren, all the things you told yourself you would never be, yet here you were.

The thought had finally occurred to you as you felt your recent Tinder meetup thrust inside of you. His name was Xavier, a Spanish entrepreneur in his mid-20’s who just so happened to be in town testing a study group on his latest business venture. Yet the only thing this man had come close to doing all night was testing your patience. From his sleaze-ball attitude to the way he aggressively attempted to fuck you. Let’s just say you were grateful he couldn’t see your distasteful facial expression as he took you from behind.

You were depleted of all emotions in this moment as the man attempted to make love to your empty womb. You didn’t even feel anger or sadness at this point, your body felt like some sort of abandoned amusement park. The rides and attractions were there for everyone to see, they were just void of life. You feared that eventually, a dead body would feel warm compared to yours. The fear for you was so real, so scary, to think that you were just some damaged goods.

You started to feel suffocated from the motel’s disgustingly tacky red satin bed sheets that your head was currently being shoved deeper and deeper into. So you decided to end this God-awful encounter early. Sitting your body up causes the poor Xavier to lose his rhythm effectively allowing you to overtake power and position his dumbfounded body beneath you. Luckily the man lasted about as long as you had the capacity for, he gripped your hips tightly, possibly leaving a bruise, causing you to at least enjoy one sensation that night.

Once the man had finished he attempted to grab your naked form in one could only assume to be a cuddle, you had absolutely no capacity to even humor the idea. Feigning an early morning you quickly gathered your things and headed directly for the door, not so much as even pretending to want to see him ever again.

The walk of shame. 3 AM, unknown neighborhoods, brisk weather, and a clearer state of mind all accompanied you on your walk home. You officially felt at a total loss with yourself. You had tried the relationship thing, the casual dating, and now here you were attempting one-night-stands, and yet nothing helped you feel complete.

“If only he could see me now,” you say quietly to no one in particular.

Morning light hits you like a bucket of cold water. Apparently in your self-loathing state last night you completely neglected to change out of your cocktail dress and close your blinds. You groan audibly pulling your plush pillow to cover your head from the obscene light. The damage had already been done, you were now officially awake and forced to begin your day.

Dragging yourself to your bathroom you start by turning the shower to the hottest temperature possible and begin to strip from your attire. The woman staring back at you in the mirror is one that you had unfortunately been well acquainted with recently. With the smudged raccoon eyes and red nose that had broken through last night’s foundation, she was an absolute mess.

You scrub and scrub your body under the hot water as if it were some kind of remedy for the way you felt inside. No matter how raw you made your skin you still couldn’t erase the emptiness you felt throughout your core.

That is enough, you think to yourself. Enough of this vile attitude that you had towards yourself. Did you really need to remind yourself daily about what an amazing life you had? A great job, amazing friends, and a beautiful apartment in which you shared rent with a great roommate. Had you really stooped low enough in your womanhood that you would consider yourself empty just because you lacked the place of a man? Your mother would be so disappointed if she could see you now.

You had grown so tired of these men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close to you, their breaths thick with alcohol. Men who didn't come to the emergency room with you, men who left you alone on Christmas. Men who slammed their bedroom doors, who made you love them then changed their minds. You decided you would no longer let this gender be oppressive, you were a warrior.

“Well someone got in late last night,” your roommate, Sofie, called to you over her morning coffee. You had just made your way down to the kitchen in need of caffeine to help break through your early morning fog.

“Please don’t remind me,” you say to her as you begin searching for a clean mug.

“What? Did you not like this guy? Was he not good in be-”

You cut her off promptly by slamming the cabinet door, yourself being surprised by your own actions you turn to face her.

“I’m sorry I just really don’t feel like talking about it.”

Sofie nods her head in understanding instantly making a pool of guilt form in your stomach from the way you acted. This aggression was a new thing of yours that you had yet to get used to. Rage had begun to take a grip on your life, and on your friendships. You never wanted to be this way. It sickened you to imagine you would have ever become a person to hurt a close friend of yours because you couldn’t contain the fire that you felt inside.

“I’m really sorry Sofie I didn’t mean to snap it’s just-” your words stop as Sofie patiently waits.

“Last night was hard because it made me realize,” you take a big breath, “I am broken.”

“Sweetie you are not broken! You have just been burned, badly might I add, and you are having a hard time coming to terms with it that’s all.”

Is that all? Could Sofie finally have cracked the code that all of this just so happened to stem from one incident? There was no way you could allow this to be true. You were not just a victim who gets to bear her scar for the rest of the world to see. Your story would not end like that.

“No Sofie, you don’t get it, when I say that I am broken I am really not looking for sympathy,” her back straightens at your serious expression. “I just mean that I am giving up on relationships, all kinds of relationships with men, for now.”

“So no more dating?” You shake your head to confirm. “No more hookups?”

“When I say no more. I mean it,” you say with an icy tone.

“I don’t think that is such a bad idea,” Sofie begins. “I think you may just need to take some time before you go out again, learn about yourself, love yourself. Y’know all that shit that Teen Vogue used to tell us.”

You laugh at this, your roommate was a sweet girl, older than you but innocent enough. You envied her star glazed eyes when she talked about love and romance. Her heart was so pure and untainted, you hoped that she would never change, you prayed that she would never know.

“I think you may be right Sof.”

“Right about what?”

In the most perfect of moments Sofie’s boyfriend, Jake, comes down the stairs to join in on your impromptu counseling session. Jake and Sofie were long-time boyfriend and girlfriend since your guys’ days in college. They were each other’s first everything's, love, relationship, they had even lost their virginities to one another. The first day the two of them had met during your study session you could see it happen, the sparks. And throughout the years you were able to watch their love bloom and unfold.

“Oh you know the usual, my life is fucked,” you joke responding to Jake’s question.

“What fucking men with no feelings is finally getting old?” Jake says.

“Ouch, you don’t have to be so harsh,” you respond back to him in which he just shrugs you off.

Sometimes you wondered how a person as blunt as Jake managed to win over the tender-hearted Sofie. Jake reaches above Sofie’s head to grab his own mug for coffee while pressing a kiss to her forehead causing her face to flush with joy. Some couples just couldn’t be scrutinized, Jake and Sofie just worked.

“Hey, you’re still gonna come with us to Dominic’s New Year’s party on Friday, right?” Sofie asks you.

“That depends, will Dom stay far away from me for the entirety of the night?” you respond back.

“Oh come on, he’s really not all that bad!” Sofie says making your eyebrows go up in disbelief. “And if I recall correctly you hooked up with him a couple of months ago so you obviously don’t hate him that much.”

“First off, I was drunk,” you begin to feel yourself getting worked up. “Secondly, my heart was just broken, if you haven’t forgotten, so let’s just say my judgment was a little fucked.”

Sofie takes a long sip of her coffee and avoids eye-contact. You turn your body from her and breathe deeply from your nose in order to regain your composure.

“Okay, ladies let’s take it down a notch,” Jake effectively breaks the tension. “Y/N, I would love it if you came to celebrate with all of us. And I promise I will be keeping Dom busy so you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Fine, I’ve never been one to say no to free drinks anyways,” Sofie perks up at your response and excitedly hugs you causing you to smile.

Your workweek drags on leaving you anxious to get absolutely trashed at the upcoming party. You’ve had enough corporate bullshit to make certain that when Friday came no one would even be able to recognize that you played as a stock manager by day. One last sweep of your ruby red lipstick against your lips and your look is complete. Despite the bitter winter air you opted to show skin tonight in your tight black body-con dress. You knew that this look would attract lots of attention, but you didn’t care. You would relish in the way men would stare at you, and then doing something you have become unfamiliar with, you would deny each and every one of them.

You, Jake, and Sofie all share the same Uber from your apartment to Dominic’s swanky new penthouse. The four of you had all met in college, each of you finding different paths in life yet always keeping in touch. Back then Dominic was a promising young student swiftly on his way to becoming an engineer. Until suddenly he decided to leave school and follow his true passion for cuisine. Now he was one of the most successful restaurant moguls in the city.

His hard work truly paid off, you thought to yourself as the three of you entered his pristine penthouse suite already packed with people ready to celebrate the new year. The ceilings were high and the interior design was entirely bachelor-esque, true to his lavish lifestyle. Waiters attended to people throughout the room holding silver platters of champagne and the occasional finger-food. The scent in the air was lofty with alcohol and the various types of cologne worn by desperate men looking for a lay.

“You guys made it!”

Speak of the devil. Dominic makes his way through the crowd to greet his old friends. The four of you exchange hugs and hello’s but you were more than ready to end the interaction with him as quickly as possible. You look around the room until your eyes land on the small minibar across the living room.

“I need to be drunk,” you yell in Sofie’s ear causing her to giggle and excusing the two of you to the bar being worked by a dashing young bartender. It was a bit of a challenge to remember why exactly you weren’t going to be hooking up with anyone tonight. Until the young Colgate smirk shot you a knowing look. It all came rushing back, you fucking hated men.

Quickly you order a shot for both you and Sofie which she reluctantly agrees to, what a great friend, you think. The burn of tequila crawls its way to your stomach lighting a pleasant fire. You settle on champagne to sip on the rest of the night after taking the beverage from the bartender to promptly end his suffocating stare on you.

“I’m gonna go find Jake, are you okay here?” Sofie asks you.

“Yes of course I’ll be fine as long as the bartender can keep it in his pants.”

Sofie laughs and hits your arm for speaking so loudly, but you truly didn’t care. You begin to move away from the bar towards the floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the city life below. Upon approaching you can’t help but ogle at the beautiful scenery. The life of the city could be seen even from fifty floors up. The hustle and bustle of people eager to celebrate the new year had mesmerized you along with the mass of skyscrapers glittering against the deep purple horizon.

Once you and Sofie had left to find the bar, Jake and Dominic were across the room talking of old times while Dominic showcased his new apartment. Jake could tell that Dominic was proud in the development of his empire, it was obvious in the way he had to mention price tags on every item in his home. Just when Dominic was about to go on and on about a particular piece of art a man whom Jake had not met before interrupts their conversation by placing a hand on Dominic’s shoulder.

“Jaebeom you made it!” Dominic says to the man while pulling him in for a hug. Dominic, as anyone could tell, had a bit too much to drink tonight, hence the sudden affection.

Jaebeom didn’t seem to mind Dominic, perhaps already familiar with this behavior, he pulls back from the brief embrace and gives Dominic a tight smile. Jaebeom had dark hair that was tucked neatly behind each ear. His ears were littered with silver jewelry while his nose also adorned a single stud. His eyes were set deep giving him a mysterious aura.

“Jaebeom this is my good buddy from college Jake,” Dominic introduces the two while both the men shake their hands in a greeting. “Jaebeom is a photographer, he did all the shots for my new restaurant.”

“No kidding, that’s really awesome man,” Jake says trying to make conversation with the stranger.

“Thanks for saying so, I really appreciate it,” Jaebeom says.

A silence fills the space before Dominic asks, “So did Claire come with you tonight?”

Claire, from what Jake had heard, was Dominic’s newest conquest. She was a hostess at one of Dominic’s restaurants and apparently good friends with Jaebeom. Jake found it odd that Dominic could not work up the courage himself to ask out a girl instead of having someone he hired to be his wingman.

“Unfortunately she wasn’t able to swing her shift,” Jaebeom tells Dominic to which he shrugs in an attempt to seem unaffected. Jaebeom then suddenly turns to Jake.

“I’m sorry if this comes off as too forward, but I couldn’t help but notice the girl you came in with earlier.”

Jake laughs, this wouldn’t be the first time that he had to break it to some poor bastard that Sofie was his girlfriend. She was absolutely gorgeous and he knows that his girlfriend Sofie does garner lots of attention. Not that he feels jealous, he just hates having to break it to these dudes that they stand no chance.

“That would be my girlfriend actually,” Jake says.

“Both of them?” Jaebeom raises his eyebrow quizzically causing Jake to facepalm at the way he is handling this interaction.

“Oh no sorry,” Jake searches the room to see Sofie and you leaning against the bar on the other side of the room. “My girlfriend is the one in the white dress over there by the bar.”

Jake points out the two of you and watches Jaebeom’s eyes follow.

“Oh I see, I was actually going to ask you about her friend.”

Jake sputters the champagne he is sipping feeling caught off guard at the question. If Jake remembers correctly you had completely sworn off men not too long ago. Then again, Jaebeom does look like a nice guy and seems genuinely interested in you. As your friend, Jake feels at a standstill with what to do. Although Jake was harsh in words when it came to you, he always had a soft spot for you. And he knows when you put your mind to something, you do not tolerate when people disregard you. But before Jake can say anything, Dominic beats him to the punch.

“Are you kidding? Y/N is practically fucking anyone that even looks her way these days.”

Now Jake remembers just why Dominic and you never got along. He was a complete asshole to you.

“Hey dude come on, don’t say that shit about her,” Jake comes to your defense.

Dominic raises his hands in surrender while wearing that typical shit-eating grin, “I just call it as I see it.”

Jake begins to become increasingly frustrated with the way that his best friend was being talked about, but he is even more afraid of your image being potentially slandered in front of a total stranger. And perhaps a potential match.

“You know better than anyone that she is going through a lot right now. Besides just the other day she said she had absolutely no interest in dating anymore,” Jake internally cringes at himself for potentially scaring Jaebeom away with that last point, but he really couldn’t let Dominic continue to trash you.

“Oh, Jesus don’t give me that. Ever since she got dumped she has been acting like a complete who-”

“Alright I think that’s enough,” surprisingly Jaebeom beats Jake in coming to your defense by putting an end to Dominic’s drunken rant.

While listening to Dominic trash you and Jake attempting to defend you, Jaebeom was continually getting more and more upset. It was bad enough that Dominic has just shown himself to be a terrible friend, but now he was going to stoop as low as calling his friend such a derogatory term?

He thought again about the girl that caught his attention. His eyes were on you the moment you walked through the door. Even with the masses of people in the penthouse, he felt like he was on another world with you, floating distantly away in a turquoise sea. To your beautiful skin, gorgeous locks of hair, and even just the way you carried yourself. Jaebeom had found himself completely enraptured with this complete stranger. And he was not going to let one of your supposed “friends” go on ruining your image.

“It’s not very cool to talk about someone like that when they’re not here to defend themselves. Especially to someone whom they have never even met,” Jaebeom told Dominic with a stern tone.

If Jake was impressed before by this man, his respect for Jaebeom increased even more. If only you were willing to put yourself out there again, he thinks Jaebeom might be a really good change for you. He clearly was a person who stood for what they believed in, and Jake knows how much a person like that could have such a great impact on you.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Jake waves to Jaebeom too stunned to even say anything as he walks off.

“What the hell is his problem?” Dominic starts as Jaebeom leaves, “Does he think that Y/N will blow him with that bullshit Mr. Nice Guy act?”

“You are such a prick, you know that?” Dominic just shrugs off Jake taking a large gulp of his beer.

While roaming throughout the penthouse you would stop occasionally to scope out the room around you. The people, the music, even the drinks were just so mind numbingly dull to you. You thought to yourself either you were truly broken like you thought so earlier that week or you were perhaps just a narcissist. Neither of those options made you feel particularly good about yourself, but if you weren’t going to be the one to say it, who would?

“Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

Over the loud bass of the music somehow you were able to hear the question coming from the man who had just approached you. You turn towards him slightly startled. Only once you turned to the voice you felt your breath leave your lungs. He was handsome, no beyond that, you had seen handsome men before, fucked handsome men, he was something else. There was no word in the English language to describe his looks.

His cheeks were set high on his face along with his straight nose. The dark locks of hair that framed his face rested softly on his moonlit skin. The way he held your eyes with his stare had you almost in a panic until you remembered, you had lost all your patience for men.

Still, there was no harm in just conversing, your drunken state thought.

“I’m going to have to say no to that one,” you reply back honestly while setting your empty champagne glass on a waiter’s tray. Had it not been for the few drinks you had already you would not have even spared this man a second glance, right?

“Can’t say I blame you,” the man says. “I am Jaebeom by the way.”

He flashes you a tender smile with his perfectly straightened teeth, you quickly tell him your own name hoping to God this conversation could die. Your resolve while standing next to Jaebeom was slowly dwindling. You need to leave his side. Continuing this conversation leads to dangerous territory that not you nor your heart was ready for.

“I’m sorry, will you excuse me? I need to find my friends, I haven’t seen them all night,” you inwardly cringe at your lame excuse. Yet Jaebeom seems completely unaffected, holding his arm out to his side to allow your departure. A man that doesn’t get angry when you deprive him of attention, that was new.

Somewhere amongst the sea of people Sofie appears at Jake’s side effectively easing the growing anger Jake felt towards Dominic’s drunken antics.

“What were you two boys talking about,” Sofie says sweetly while looping her arm around Jake. Jake knows that if Sofie were to hear the things Dominic had been saying about her best friend, she would have an absolute fit. So he thought it best she didn’t know.

“Oh you know just guy talk,” Jake says smiling.

“My photographer has the hots for Y/N,” Dominic slurs while it takes everything in Jake not to strangle his friend.

“Your photographer? Who is that? I want to see what he looks like,” Sofie replies sounding interested, to which Dominic scans the room before landing his finger on Jaebeom talking with some other guests.

“What really? He is so perfect I have to go tell her,” Sofie tries to walk away until Jake pulls her back.

“Okay first of all, ouch, I am your boyfriend. How can you say a guy is perfect while I’m right here?” Sofie rolls her eyes but let’s Jake continue. “Secondly, wasn’t it just a couple days ago that she mentioned never wanting to date again?”

“Oh come on you know she doesn’t mean that, and besides that guy is so her type. The second she sees him she will forget her hatred of men altogether,” Sofie says.

Jake sighs but lets Sofie go over and tell you about your secret admirer. He didn't appreciate the way people took your words so lightly. Was he the only one listening to you for the past couple months to know that you needed time to heal? Then again Sofie was your closest friend and perhaps she knew what was best for you.

“Okay you are never going to believe this,” Sofie approaches you from behind as you finish off your third glass of champagne.

“Tell me quickly I can feel the alcohol beginning to fog my brain.”

“Literally the hottest guy here asked Jake and Dom about you, they say he is interested in you!”

Through your slightly buzzed state you can still feel the burst of annoyance come over you. You have to breathe deeply through your nose in order to not completely go off on your sweet enthusiastic friend. Did your words a couple days ago mean nothing to her?

“Sofie, like I told you, I am not at all interested,” you tell her causing her excitement to dwindle. “So you can pass along that message to this mystery man too.”

“Oh come on! At least let me show you who it is, you will just die,” Sofie says causing your eyes to roll.

You decide to play along, “Fine show me.”

Sofie excitedly turns both your bodies to the crowd of people, she scans for a minute until she finds the said man, excitedly pointing him out to you. Jaebeom was in the middle of a conversation. The man who was interested in you was him? The guy you completely blew off just moments ago?

You could feel yourself start to become overwhelmed. First when you started to talk to Jaebeom you began to have these feelings that you had never felt before. The fact that you couldn’t identify them frustrated you and made you want to leave this party. Now come to find out the whole reason he approached you was because he was interested? For reasons unexplained you began to feel the anger turn in your stomach again.

Who did this guy think he was? Was he just someone who felt he was so charming that just a simple greeting would have you spreading your legs for him? You felt so angry with yourself for even faltering for a moment on the resolution you made with yourself. This just proved your theory that all men want the same things from you. How could you be so stupid to think differently? Your head was turning into a swirl of red, clouding your judgement, perhaps the cheap booze was stronger than you anticipated.

It wasn’t until Jaebeom turned his body towards you, locking his eyes on yours. You expected to see the smirk, the smirk that all the men wear on their faces when they just want their dick wet. Instead, he smiled. Not a forced smile, it was genuine, you could feel the warmth of it from across the room. His smile had you faltering. You’ve been with so many men these past few months that you thought you had them all figured out. So why was he so unpredictable?

For this, the rage overcame you.

With all your might you are able to look away from him and down at the floor. Your chest felt tight, all the air around you had been sucked away as you struggled to get a grip on where you were. Breathing exercises were not going to help you at this point.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sofie looks down at your shaken figure.

“No, I’m not, I think I’m going to leave. I really don’t feel well,” you say as you begin to make your way through people not wanting to let anyone submit to your anger.

Sofie grabs your arm, “It’s almost midnight you can’t leave now!”

“Sofie please, I am being very serious right now. Let me go,” your tone is icy as Sofie draws her hand back in fear.

Taking the opportunity you start your journey towards the exit needing so desperately to get out of the sea of people. Your chest began to heave as you felt the world closing in on you. Tears prodded in your eyes as you clenched your fists. The crowd was suffocating, you felt like you were about to burst, until finally you made your way to the door. You hurried down the hallway to the elevator practically throwing a punch at the call button.

Jaebeom was across the room when he had seen the entire exchange. He noticed your change in expression and then proceeded to watch you suddenly turn to leave the party. Jaebeom had a hard time understanding why, but he felt worried for you. Suddenly he begins to weave in and out of the drunken mass as the countdown from ten begins to be shouted out. He sees only a glimpse of you as you finally slip your way out the front door.

He reaches the door, opening it to find there is no one in the hall, he looks down and sees the elevator doors slowly closing with you inside. He tries to make a run for it, what will he even say when he reaches you? He doesn’t care at this moment, all Jaebeom knows is that he doesn't want you to be alone.

Running fast towards the titanium doors you look up and catch his eye. Tears can be seen falling down your flushed cheeks. Your eyes were wild and bright as you stared through Jaebeom, making his steps come to a halt. He was shaken by the look in your eyes, so much so that he lets the elevator doors stop him from reaching you.

FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

He hears the party happening behind him. The cheering and laughing as people celebrate with their friends and loved ones. Yet the noise is completely drawn out as Jaebeom thinks of you.

This girl he had only just met, yet he longed for so desperately so.

#got7 fanfic #jaebeom fanfic #got7 smut #jaebeom smut #Im Jaebeom #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #fanfic #got7 #jb smut #got7 jb #jb fanfic

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babbushka · 4 years ago

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Wreck The Malls: Flip Zimmerman and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

6.2k ; cw: mentions of gun violence, blood and injury ; NSFW (shower sex, injured sex, PIV, oral sex)

Available on AO3

----------------------

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. But it is also universally acknowledged, that a lucky man in possession of a good wife, should want to get her something special for the holidays.

This is the story of how one Detective Flip Zimmerman of the CSPD, goes on a journey through hell and back to obtain such a gift, and might just learn the true meaning of Christmas along the way.

Now, though this story takes place on Christmas Eve, it should be noted that our Mr. Zimmerman does not actually like Christmas. He doesn’t celebrate it, and he thinks the entire holiday is one big headache. Does it bother him that his own holidays always seem to be overlooked in favor for the goyishe celebrations of December? Yes – but that’s not the reason he dislikes it so much. If you were to ask him, he would say something akin to;

“I just don’t know why the fuck everyone makes such a big goddamn deal.” He huffs and puffs on his cigarette in the parking lot. Flip rolls his eyes, “All month long, stores have been playing this shit music since the day after Thanksgiving.”

Sitting in his car with Ron – the only one of his friends patient enough to listen to him complain for an hour straight – Flip turns the radio down just low enough for Jingle Bell Rock to sound. They’re outside the big mall, something shiny and brand new, just in the nick of time for the holidays. Ron shrugs, going over his last-minute shopping list.

“We can go home, no one will know.” Ron points out for what must seem like the eighteenth time.

Flip had asked Ron to accompany him both for emotional support, but also to get a second opinion on the gift he was picking up for you. Flip loves you more than anything else in the entire world – yes, even more than his buc-wheat cereal and Greek yogurt – and even though you had already exchanged presents during Hanukkah only a few days prior, that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Of course we can’t go home, I want to get her something nice.” He says as much, flicking the ash of his cigarette out of the car window, the oppressive commercialism of the mall looming ahead.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like Christmas either though.” Ever the practical voice of reason, Ron tries giving Flip one more out, one more chance to turn back now, “You don’t have to put yourself through this, you know.”

“It’s not a Christmas present,” Flip shakes his head, finally turning the car engine off entirely, and silencing the radio once and for all. He steels himself, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror, “It’s a just-because present. I already have it all picked out and everything, I just need to go in and pay for it.”

“You’ve got some real brains underneath those flowing locks of yours man.” Ron smiles, gets out of the car and stretches out his muscles for what he’s sure will be a ton of walking through angry mobs, “Minimizing the amount of time in there is probably for the best, considering.”

It’s the way that Flip hesitates that clues Ron in that maybe, Flip didn’t have as many brains as he had thought.

“Considering what?” Flip asks, the second clue.

“Flip, it’s Christmas Eve.” Ron spells it out plainly, and wishes he had a camera to capture the exact moment that the next thought enters Flip’s mind, and subsequently spills out of his mouth:

“…Oh fuck.”

Shaking his head fondly, Ron claps a hand on Flip’s shoulder as he rounds the front of the car, and the two of them brave the great unknown together.

Flip was not nearly as familiar with the mall as he likes to think, but he knows where the jewelry store is, and really that’s all that matters.

They make their way down to that section of the enormous space, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the sheer abundance of Christmas Cheer that surrounds them. Nearly every store had something in its window display: lights, statues, mannequins modeling holiday attire, some even had moving animatronic animals that gave Flip the shivers. Every pole and railing and kiosk in the place was covered in garland and lights, and in the grand atrium, enormous ornaments were suspended from the ceiling.

Pausing for a moment and looking up at them, Flip wonders what the likelihood would be for them to all come crashing down.

He’s so caught up in fact, that he nearly misses Ron branching off in another direction.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Flip jogs a couple paces to catch up, a frown already forming between his brows.

“I need to pick somethin’ up for Patrice.” Ron explains, holding up his little shopping list. Flip gives him a mildly panicked look, but Ron only reassures him with, “We’ll meet up at the food court?”

I can do this, Flip thinks to himself, it’s one store. How bad could one store be?

“Sure, don’t take too long.” Flip eventually agrees, swallowing down the feeling of impending doom – otherwise known as “acid reflux” according to you – and squaring his shoulders.

He didn’t need Ron, he was a grown man after all. He fought in Vietnam twice! Surely he could go to the jewelry store…right?

Making his way over to the escalator, Flip has his eye on the prize; Goldsmith’s Jewelry is just off to the left, he can see it coming. Playfully taking the five golden rings theme and running with it, large decorations spin gently in the window, glittering in the light. Flip’s relieved to see the place relatively empty.

Not completely dead, but definitely not a line out the door the way that the toy store had. As a matter of fact, when Flip walks through the glass doors, he’s greeted by less than ten people, including the owner himself, who lights up when he spots his friend.

“Philip! Good to see you son. Here for those earrings you were looking at?” Carl, a fabulously eccentric man with no less than fifteen pieces of jewelry on at any given time practically jingles when he comes around the counter to give Flip a hug.

“You bet Carl, how much am I layin’ out for you?” Flip has to bend himself nearly in half to reach the kind gentleman’s embrace, already reaching for his wallet.

Carl was one of those men who could reminisce and catch up for hours on end, and as much as Flip would love to listen to the story about how Carl lost his dentures in his shoe for the hundredth time, he would rather listen to you instead. Thankfully, Carl doesn’t seem too pressed about it, and he only beckons the detective over to the register counter.

“Tell you what, since you’re practically family and helped out Darlene with her car troubles, I’m taking half off.” Carl announces with a twinkle in his eye, making Flip feel a little guilty about wanting to scram as fast as possible.

“Oh you don’t have to go doing all that Carl really – ” Flip tries, but Carl is having none of it.

“I want to!” He smacks at Flip’s hands when he tries to offer him the full amount of cash, fully turning his back on Flip to go into the little employees only room. “You stay right here, I’ll just go into the back and get it wrapped up real nice for you.”

Left alone once again, Flip has no choice but to let his eye wander. The entire place was sensory overload, really, and Flip wishes he could have a fucking cigarette. Was the music at the mall always this loud and discordant? Chewing on his lip instead of the butt of a cigarette, Flip looks around the store.

He makes uncomfortable eye contact with a man who is clearly picking up something for the wife and something else for the girlfriend, and he looks away when he realizes. Training his eye on the great big mirror up on the wall instead, Flip frowns.

Is that…no, it couldn’t be.

Santa Claus wouldn’t be taking a break from the Workshop near the foodcourt to stop into a jewelry store, would he? Flip shakes his head, he’s probably just being paranoid. The guy is probably on break and looking for something for Mrs. Claus. Flip cracks himself up with that thought, and is about to turn around and joke with the guy about it – when he notices through the mirror that the Santa is ever so cautiously reaching around the counter, looking for the lock mechanism.

“Shit.” Flip licks across his teeth, when he manages it open and begins pulling out necklaces with seemingly no one noticing.

Carl still hasn’t come back, so Flip casually reaches for the phone on the counter near the register, dials the direct line number to his buddy back at the station.

“CSPD this is Jimmy – ”

“It’s me, I’m at the jewelry store on the second level of the mall downtown. I think there’s a robbery about to go down, I’m going to need backup.” Flip mutters as quietly as he can into the receiver, keeping and eye on the Santa.

Sure enough, he’s pulling out a sack, and it looks as if this guy has already hit up quite a few stores, if the brand new boxed electronics filling it are anything to go by.

“Is he armed?” Jimmy asks immediately, and Flip tries to get a good look.

“I can’t tell, he’s in a Santa suit.” He explains, and then scowls when the line goes silent for a moment.

“…Flip are you serious?” Jimmy tries to start some bullshit but Flip doesn’t have the time for this.

“Yes I’m fucking serious would you just tell Trapp I need backup? Ron is here somewhere but I don’t know where the fuck he went.” He hisses, teeth clenching tight enough that he can feel the muscle fluttering in his jaw.

“Okay okay! I’m on it, keep him in your sight.” Jimmy replies, before hanging up.

Trying to steal a glance through the mirror again, Flip realizes he must have been a little too loud, because the Santa has bolted through the doors, sack filled with diamond and ruby and sapphires galore.

“Fuck.” Flip grunts to himself, before slamming down the phone near the register and rushing out of the store with a futile, “CSPD! Hands where I can see them!”

This would be much easier, Flip reasons, if it weren’t Christmas fucking Eve. The mall is swamped with people, loud and slow like big dumb buffalo – no, he wouldn’t do buffalo the disservice of comparing them to these last minute mall shoppers who cannot decide if they want to walk on the left or the right side of the aisle. Santa, he needs Santa – but there are so many! Nearly a dozen guys in red coats and white beards ring bells or wave or laugh jolly hearty laughs, and Flip feels like he’s in hell.

No, he supposes, Hell must be the five-story Hibbard & Co., where he finally manages to catch sight of the Santa he’s after. Bolting across the large expanse of the mall and into the first level of the store, Flip trips and stumbles through displays of empty cardboard box presents and wooden nutcrackers, causing shouts and screams of distress to erupt around him from the patrons of the store.

The employees however, are entirely unphased, they continue to spritz the air with their perfume samples, directly into the face of Flip, who is scrambling and already breathing heavy as it is, his boots carrying him around the sharp corners of the mirrored kiosks in the perfume department.

“Oh – shit – fuck!” Flip’s blinded by the perfume, his eyes stinging. He’s choking on it, unable to breathe as rose water stings his vision. “I love my job, I love my wife, I love my job…”

He chants to himself as he blinks and coughs, to no avail; he’s so blinded that he crashes into a display of coats, which in a domino-like effect crash down all the other displays of winter clothing on their way down, but Flip can’t stick around to apologize, the Santa is getting away.

“Out of my way – Ron!” Flip shouts as he pushes and shoves himself through the large swathes of people, Christmas music blaring bright and cheerfully as he runs and runs and runs, shouting out, “Ron if you can hear me a little help would be appreciated!”

The Santa isn’t making this easy for him, Flip curses, as he runs down the up escalator.

Following suit, there’s real screams now when the Santa pulls out a gun and starts blindly shooting behind himself at Flip, making everyone on the escalator, and everyone in that area of the mall for that matter, scatter. If Flip thought the crowds were bad, a mob was even worse, and soon everyone is running in every which way direction, as this Santa gets off the escalator and sprints down towards the food court.

Flip wonders why the place isn’t on a lockdown yet, wonders what the hell is taking backup so long to get there already. Didn’t this place have cops? Weren’t the mall cops good for literally anything? What a waste of his time, Flip thinks, as he runs runs runs with his gun in his hands, trying to hold steady as he aims to shoot, the robber in his sight, he can see him, he can practically smell him --

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this – oh fuck me -- !” Flip collides hard with an unsuspecting dad who just happened to be grabbing lunch from the food court for his entire family.

“Watch where you’re fucking going pal!” The dad shouts.

All at once, a whole tray of pizza slices doused in red sauce and melted cheese, and four large cups of pepsi are flying through the air and landing all over Flip’s brand new shirt, the one that you had just given to him for Hanukkah. He wants to be livid, wants to choke this guy out but the robber is getting away, Flip’s losing visual on him, and after all the trouble, there’s no chance he’s letting him get away.

“You fucking watch it!” Flip scrambles up, which isn’t easy to do on freshly mopped linoleum floors covered in soda pop, his gun spiraling a couple feet in front of him that he lunges to pick up, muttering to himself, “Ruined my goddamn – ugh – fuck!”

He has to change, and he has to change quickly – scanning the nearest stores, the closest one in the mall that sells clothing. He runs over to it, already unbuttoning his ruined shirt, and grabs the first thing on the rack he sees, which happens to be the most hideous, tacky, terrible looking Christmas sweater.

Flip raises his eyes up to the ceiling, and can practically feel the universe laughing at him when he groans, “Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

There’s no time, he doesn’t have any other choice, so he yanks the ruined shirt over his head and throws the sweater on. It’s two sizes too small, and it’s itchy as all fucking hell, and of course, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse…the faux lights turn out to not be so faux after all, and they blink as he accidentally rips a tag off so not to trip any alarms.

Throwing money onto the counter as the employees stare at him like he’s a maniac and not just trying to do his fucking job, Flip’s chest heaves as he stands there, gun drawn, scanning the panicked swarms of people in front of him.

“Where did you go you motherfucker?” Flip growls, growing more and more pissed off by the minute.

A moment or two goes by, but then he spots him – the pet grooming salon.

Without any hesitation, Flip is chasing this man down with all his vigor, lungs pumping full of recycled mall air conditioning, blood pounding in his veins. The sooner he catches this guy and gets him cuffed, the sooner all this pandemonium will end.

“Hey!” He hears an authoritative shout from the other end of the mall, and lets out a sigh of relief.

The mall security has finally shown up, and he’s about ready to tell them that Santa is in the pet salon, when he notices they are not slowing down in their full force sprint towards him.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” Flip realizes they think he’s the maniac! “I’m a cop! It’s not me – I’m – oh for fuck’s sake.”

Flip realizes he doesn’t have the time to explain, so he does the exact opposite thing you’re supposed to do: run.

Into the pet salon Flip goes, hoping that if he can just grab the Santa it’ll all be explained, but there is no Santa to be found. Instead, Flip is met by a dozen dogs that have been let loose. Big dogs, like Dobermans and Rottweilers, and small dogs like Poodles and Pomeranians have all been released from their cages, and for whatever reason, are baring their teeth at him, and lunging after him as he runs the other way.

“Heel! Sit! Stay – ow!” Flip feels teeth sink into his ankles, and doesn’t bother looking back as he kicks away one of the smaller dogs in the pack that is chasing him.

He can see the Santa, and now, chased by dogs and mall cops, Flip chases him down for hopefully the last leg of this race. He can feel steam shooting out of his ears, he’s never going to leave home again he decides, never is going to step foot in this fucking mall again, as he’s chased.

Meanwhile, blissfully unaware over in the lingerie department of Macy’s, Ron Stallworth’s greatest dilemma is trying to choose between the red velvet bra and panty set, or the navy satin set. He’s been staring at the two sets for quite some time now, and is conscious of the fact that Flip must be waiting for him, so he calls over one of the employees for her opinion.

He explains that it’s for his girlfriend, and while red and blue are both colors she likes, he isn’t sure which would get the most use – when he sees a Santa Claus stumbling and tripping over himself, shoving people out of his way as he runs past the great big glass windows.

“Huh.” Ron frowns, putting the sets down and moving over to the windows to get a better look.

Ron hears the commotion before he sees it, but when he does see it – ‘it’ being his best friend bleeding, in a blinking fuzzy Christmas sweater, gun brandished, chased by dogs and security who are blowing their whistles and brandishing guns of their own – he grabs all his shit and makes leave.

“If you ladies will please excuse me – ” Ron gives a parting excuse to the employees, who only frown at him as he runs and runs and runs to catch up to, “Flip! Flip what the fuck is going on!”

“It’s about goddamn time!” Flip shouts, nearly red in the face from exertion and sheer unbridled rage as he points with his gun to the man in red a few yards ahead, “That Santa! Is! A! Maniac! I don’t know how many stores he’s stolen from, but at least from the jewelry store and is shooting at people – watch out!”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, half a dozen men throw large plastic ornaments the size of cars out onto the floor as a means to blockade the hall. They’re dressed in green, with red and white stockings and pointed hats that have jingle bells on the end, but these were no innocent visitors from the North Pole.

“Of fucking course he’s got elves.” Flip grunts as he tries to run around them, tries his best to avoid getting hit square in the chest with them as they bounce and create a rampaging path of destruction.

“I’ll handle the dogs and the elves, and the mall cops, you catch Santa.” Ron slows down enough, until he’s far enough away that Flip can’t hear him, his own feet still on auto-pilot as he hunts down the Santa.

And then – then!

As if by some miracle, the Santa trips, and he and his sack full of stolen goods all come crashing down to the linoleum floor. In slow motion, Flip jumps using all the strength he has left, hands extended to grab the Santa, and as he flies across the distance between their bodies, Flip swears he sees his life flash before his eyes.

Thudding to the floor, he manages to get the Santa in a chokehold, letting out a triumphant shout of victory.

“Got you!” He pins the man down, rolls him over onto his back so that he can pin his hands behind his back, Flip fishing for his handcuffs that he managed to keep in his back-pocket this whole time, “I got you you son of a bitch!”

Off to the side, a group of small children watch a grown man leap and tackle Santa Claus to the ground.

Little Stacey gasps in shock and horror, before her older brother Jacob can quickly cover her eyes with his own mittened hand. They, along with their friends – an assortment of ten to twelve year olds left unsupervised on Christmas Eve while their parents and gaurdians get gifts for in-laws they don’t like – immediately turn to one another, while Santa’s body jerks and writhes underneath the heavy knee of some strange man.

“What should we do?” Nicolas asks the leader of their group.

“Well there’s really only one thing we can do.” Dewey says with all the determination of a man about to walk into battle. The children exchange glances with resolution and with all the authority that an eighth-grader can muster, Dewey regards his friends, “All in favor of rescuing Santa and saving Christmas, say ‘aye’.”

“Aye!”

It is this emboldened shout of unity that draws Flip’s attention – before he is promptly charged by six small children who proceed to punch, and bite, and smack at him.

In the chaos, Santa manages to slip out of Flip’s grasp. Thankfully he’s still handcuffed and he’s dropped his gun, but the children don’t notice that. No, they’re too busy beating the shit out of Flip, who can’t bring himself to fight back against the angry fists of fury that are descending onto him.

“Get off of me! Get – I am a police fucking officer get off -- !” Flip manages to shake them away, and they stare up at him with wide eyes when he wipes the blood away from his nose at being slammed to the ground.

“Don’t you assholes have parents – oh forget it.” Flip doesn’t bother, caring so little about anything anymore.

He’s is almost defeated, almost, but Santa is handcuffed and limping, he can’t get too much farther, he’s so close – he’s right there –

“Oh shit!” Flip jumps back, as suddenly, out of nowhere, Ron in one of the security mall-carts comes darting from around the corner and t-bones the Santa from the side.

Santa’s body slides across the floor, and seconds later, Bridges, Trapp, Jimmy, and a dozen or so other familiar faces flood the large floor, in their blues and with their walkie talkies loud.

“Flip!” Bridges darts over to where Flip has practically collapsed onto the floor.

He’s directly underneath those ornaments, and he practically wills one of them to unlatch from their suspension and crush him to death.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Bridges has the audacity to ask, looking Flip straight in the face.

His bleeding, swollen face.

There’s a moment or two where Flip can’t think of anything other than how badly he wants a fucking cigarette, but eventually he licks across his teeth, scratches the back of his neck.

“Honestly?” Flip muses, before replying in the most dry deadpan way he can muster, “I’ve never been better.”

Blood drips onto the blinking Christmas sweater, and with that, Bridges claps him on the back and nods.

“Go home. We’ll get your statement after the holiday weekend.” He says, and sweeter words have never been spoken. “Don’t worry about Ron, we’ll give him a lift home.”

Flip’s snowy home in the mountains has never, ever looked more beautiful, Flip can’t help but think. It was quiet, so quiet up here. Snow dusted itself along the length of the front porch, draped the roof and surrounding trees in a blanket of crisp clean fresh white. No dirt, no blood, no sweat – just white. It was purifying, to say the least.

But not so purifying as the front door opening and your stunning face lighting up to see him.

That is, until you notice him limping, notice him covered in blood, notice his hair destroyed and his face bruised. Then your smile melts into something closer to shock and terror.

“Phil! What the fuck happened to you?” You rush to him, trudging through snow that’s up to your calves. You’re not wearing shoes, and Flip can’t bear the thought of you getting too cold, so he hoists you up and holds you against his side, walking you back to the house.

“I…really…don’t want to talk about it.” Flip sighs, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers with you and never emerge.

“Holy shit, are you bleeding?” You push your hand up to his face and feel at his tender nose, making him wince.

“That sounds about right.” He mutters, slamming the door behind him with his foot when he finally crosses the threshold into the foyer of the house.

Flip puts you down and immediately shoves his entire face into your neck, trying hard not to cry. What a fucking day it had been, he can’t help but think as he lets the stress and frustration finally mount behind his eyes. His face hurts, everything about him hurts, his legs are exhausted, his back is fucking killing him, and worse of all, his ego is beyond bruised.

“I hate Christmas.” Flip hiccups, knowing that he’s smearing blood against your pretty robe. Now that he’s got you in his arms, he doesn’t want you to go away, doesn’t want you more than a foot away from him.

“I know sweetheart, I know. Come on let’s go take a shower.” You card your fingers through his hair, and lead him up to the bathroom.

In the light of the bathroom, you do your absolute damndest not to laugh. It’s not that you’re laughing at him, because you would never laugh at him of course, but you’ve never seen your husband look more angry in his entire life, and you’ve been there for a significant portion of it. You have a million questions that you know better than to bombard him with right now, knowing he’ll explain all in due time.

So instead, you peel away his layers until the both of you are naked. A Christmas sweater that blinks bright red and green is buried under blood-stained and ripped jeans, your robe, underwear and socks. Flip turns on the heat and waits for the water to not be so frigid, and in the meantime, you examine him.

“Were…did you get bit by a dog?” You frown as you see crescent bruises blooming underneath his skin. Thankfully, it looks like no actual puncture wounds – what a Christmas gift that would be, rabies.

“More like a pack.” Flip grumbles, making your eyebrows shoot up nearly to your hairline. You want to ask, but Flip dismisses it for now with a sigh and an, “It’s a long story.”

Finally the water seems to be good enough for him, and Flip leads you into the shower. At once, the water runs pink as it washes him clean of the day from hell. Your hands in his hair are heavenly, washing the muck and sweat and grime out of the locks, and Flip could practically cry.

“I know what you need.” You whisper, kissing at the side of his face that’s not tender.

Keeping heated eye contact, you slowly slowly slowly slink down to your knees. Water cascades down your shoulders as your hand reaches for Flip’s cock, as you pump it ever so carefully in even strokes until he’s fully hard.

Your tongue licks up a thick stripe of his shaft, and Flip has to lean fully against the wall so his legs don’t give out and he winds up in the ER with a concussion again. Your mouth swallows him down, feels the weight of his cock on your tongue, against the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat.

“Bed, now.” Flip stops you before you can get any further, and you pull off with a smile, glad to see that though he’s in a bad mood, he’s willing to let you help him feel better.

Barely drying off with a towel, Flip kisses and kisses and kisses you as you both stumble to your bed, falling down on top of the covers. You’re giggling against his lips just because you love him so much, but he’s not smiling. No, he’s still in a proper pissed off mood, and you’re glad to let him do what he will with you.

Flip’s cock throbs as it slides in real easy into your cunt, the wet heat of your body welcoming him on the first thrust. Your eyes fall shut as your back arches off the mattress from the feeling of being so filled so fast, the breath punching out of your lungs.

“God you’re wet.” He has to groan, swipes a few fingers over your clit just to massage it and get your legs shaking, your shoulders squirming for him, “What – were you jerkin’ off missing me? Thinkin’ about me? I was thinkin’ about you.”

The thought makes him break out into a sweat as he starts to thrust, his limbs aching and sore from all the running and bodily contact, but too desperate for you to give a fuck.

“Yeah, yes Flip – I missed you, missed your cock.” You whine, giving him permission to, “Give it to me, take it all out on me honey.”

The flood gates open, and Flip’s ramming into you hard and fast. He’s bouncing the mattress, slamming the headboard from it, from the grip on your hips as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Spit strings down from his teeth as his jaw is clenched, savoring the feeling and chasing that feeling, of your beautiful body opening and squeezing around him.

“Fuck ketsl, fuck I – oh damn that feels good.” He grinds himself all the way up inside you, pushes you up the bed with the force of it. He grabs at your hair, yanks your head back so he can suck and kiss at your throat, can feel your fluttering pulse as you moan and sigh and gasp.

“Yeah? How good? Tell me.” Your hands don’t know where to go, you don’t want to accidentally touch a bruised spot, so instead they fist in the sheets as you push your hips up to let him rail into you from this new angle.

“I’m gonna knock you the fuck up, that’s how good it is, that’s how hard you make me ketsl, do that thing I like? You know the one.” Flip’s delirious, doesn’t know what he’s even saying, but you breathe out a harsh moan from the words, hands pushing your tits together.

“Like this?” Your voice wobbles from the fucking he gives you, breasts bouncing, nipples peeking through your spread fingers as you cup and hold them for him.

“Just like that – fuck, goddamn baby you’re so pretty, I could fuck this pussy all night long – ow!” Flip is about to lavish kisses onto your cleavage, when something twinges in his back, and his arms collapse underneath him and he falls square on top of your chest.

“Shit, Flip are you okay?” Your body tenses immediately, worried for him, the mood ruined.

“Yeah – yes, dammit,” Flip groans, never feeling more like an old middle aged man than he does right now.

“Okay maybe don’t fuck me all night long,” You chuckle, calming and soothing him with your hands in his hair, abandoning the hold on your breasts. Still, you’d hate for him to not even get to come after all of that, so you kiss the side of his tender nose and whisper, “Are you close?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m sorry – ” Flip rolls you onto your side, eases back into you that way, where he doesn’t have to hold himself up.

“Don’t apologize, just come in me honey, come in me.” You encourage, knowing that he’ll get a good few orgasms out of you once he’s feeling a little better.

Flip nods and kisses you, wet and hot and sloppy as he thrusts a few more times, your legs corralled over his, until he grunts out long and low, spills into your pussy.

He rides that high, rides the feeling of your sweet lips on his, until all he can do is groan from being sore.

“I think I need to see a doctor.” Flip grumbles, sounding so dejected.

“Yeah I think so too handsome.” You give him an apologetic smile on behalf of the universe, and he sighs.

You’re an angel though, striking up a cigarette for him. Passing it to him, Flip pulls out of you with a wince and the two of you starfish out onto your backs, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You let him have a few minutes of silence, but eventually the curiosity kills you and you have to ask,

“Hey, how come you were even in the mall to begin with?” Peering up at him through your lashes, wondering what the hell he had even gotten himself into, “I thought you were just popping into work for something.”

At that moment, the cold dread of realization crashes through Flip, and despite his injuries and general exhaustion, sits straight up in bed and gasps out, “Oh fuck!! I’m sorry ketsl I was going to surprise you with – ”

Just then, the doorbell rings, and the both of you frown at one another.

You weren’t expecting anyone to come over, even though it was Christmas Eve, you didn’t have any plans to celebrate anyway other than with some Chinese food takeout and a good movie. Considering the state that Flip is in, you go to reach for your robe, but Flip shakes his head and grabs for his instead.

“No, let me. You’re not dressed.” Flip says.

You love him enough not to point out that he isn’t dressed either, but Flip deserves to do what he wants after the day he’s had, you think.

Creeping down the stairs, Flip tries to look through the front window to see who it could be, but whether it’s the angle or something else, he can’t get a good visual. He pulls the robe sash tighter around his waist, looks through the peephole.

Strangely, there’s nothing there, no one to be seen. No car in his driveway, either.

How strange, Flip thinks, as he cracks the door open, wondering what the fuck else the day has in store for him.

Sitting right there on the front porch, is a small box. It’s wrapped in a golden ribbon, bearing the logo of Goldsmith’s Jewlery in a wax seal on the side. Frowning, Flip approaches it, picks it up. It feels like the right weight, but to be sure, he pulls open the ribbon and peeks inside.

Sure enough, resting atop the black velvet interior of the box are the diamond earrings that had started this whole mess.

Something about that, something about those earrings being there, makes Flip’s heart warm through. Even though it’s cold, he doesn’t feel the bite of the wind. All he can think about, is you, waiting for him upstairs in your bedroom. You, who care for him, who takes care of him, even on days when he doesn’t even want to take care of himself.

The earrings twinkle in the grey sunlight of the snowy day, and despite it all, Flip smiles to himself. What was another year of bullshit, really? He could go through anything, could do anything, as long as he had you by his side. Yes, Flip thinks, it’s all worth it, or at least it will be, when he sees your smile once again, when he gives you this little token of his appreciation, of his love.

And as he casts his gaze up to the sky, half expecting to see the real Santa Claus flying away in his sleigh, half expecting to see some friendly man smiling down at him behind a team of reindeer, Flip feels something that maybe…just maybe…might be akin to Christmas Spirit.

Until the moment passes, and he’s reminded of the day’s events by a twinge in his side from where he was donkey kicked by a twelve year old.

“Who the fuck am I kidding,” Flip scoffs to himself after a shake of his head, locking the door behind him, “Ba fuckin’ humbug, and a merry new year.”

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